Into Strangers
by mopstyle
Summary: Set over the course of five years of an eighteen year friendship, we visit seemingly random, but very specific, times in the ever shifting relationship Bella and Jasper have cultivated through years misunderstanding, manipulation, and obsession.
1. Prologue: The Noose

**Prologue: The Noose**

**Jasper was here.**

**Stephanie Meyer owns Twilight and the characters. I own this story, Copyright mopstyle© 2009**

"If we do not hang together, we shall surely hang separately." -Thomas Paine

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**June, 2009**

"Bella? Is that you?" I asked. I couldn't stop myself. She was three feet away. What a stupid idea it was to come here. It's been too long and it was bound to happen eventually. It was stupid to raise my voice up. She could have stayed in my peripheral; I should have left her there. It isn't that I don't need to see her; need to hear her voice. I need it all. I just can't stand wanting it.

The screeching guitar made me cringe. The blue stage light was panning over the crowd and it stopped on her. The memory flashed through my mind before I had time to shut it off. Perfect and sweaty; naked and mine under the blue light in my bedroom. I could still smell her and everyday I was without it haunted me. She was my ghost and she was translucent. I could not touch her, even if I wanted to. I was desperate and ravenous. She turned and ran as soon as her eyes met mine. She was gone again and I couldn't bring myself to even breathe.


	2. Chapter 1: amoureux

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns Twilight and its characters.**

**This plot is copyright ****mopstyle, 2009.**

**This chapter was originally my entry to the "For the Love of Jasper" contest.**

**To see the winners and other entries in the "For the Love of Jasper" contest, please visit:  
www(dot)fortheloveofjasper(dot)com**

**Be sure to also check out my fuckawesome Host Mention for Favorite Human J.I.L.F! Yeah, it's exactly what you think it is... http:/fortheloveofjasper(dot)blogspot(dot)?zx=66ebd70b7805e21b**

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August, 2004**

"Twelve years! Twelve years I've known that motherfucker! This has to stop." I shook my head side to side. The light turned green and I floored it.

_"Bella, you would stop, if you wanted to."_ Rose knew. Rose knew fucking everything.

"I don't know how many times we've done this before, but this is the longest it's ever gone. I feel like I'm going to puke every time I think about him." I wrapped my arm around my waist, steering the car with my knee.

_"Bella, don't you have wedding invitations to design? A dress to pick out? Christ! Why are you wasting your time worrying about him? He's a total fuck off loser going nowhere and you're just there in case he needs something. A lift, a place to crash, a fucking twenty."_

God, she would bring that up. As if I needed anyone else reminding me that my wedding was coming up and how much I still needed to deal with. The fucking harpy never held back. I loved and hated her for it. She just didn't understand Jasper and I. She never would. Rose only had two settings, stoned and caustic. Today, she burned like lye.

"Rose…"

_"No, Bella. You're out of your mind! I'm your best friend in all the world, but I'm going to throttle you if you don't get your head out of your ass! He may have been your best friend once, but he's not anymore. He's your nemesis now. He _ruins_ you. He uses you, calls you when he's hit bottom, and you always go running. If I were Edward, I would have put a stop to this shit a long time ago."_

With tense eyes I scoured the sidewalks and passing cars trying to find him, just to catch a glimpse. I needed the upper hand if I was going to try to fix us this time. I nearly dropped the phone when I thought I spied his wavy mop in a parked truck. I turned down the alley, convinced it wasn't him.

"Rose, Edward has nothing to do with this. I appreciate your candidness, I really do, but I've got to do _something_. My fucking chest is going to explode if I have to spend another eight hours not talking to him, pretending he's not even there, avoiding eye contact, all the while having to communicate somehow so that we can work together."

_"So fucking quit! Get out of there and you'll never have to deal with him again."_

"No fucking way. That place is mine. _Mine_. He quits. Not me. I just keep waiting, hoping and praying that he doesn't show up." I should never have given him the job. I figured I was helping him out. He would be reliable, for the most part, because I could always pick him up if he didn't have a ride. I also didn't think we would be working together often. That joke was on me the second the semester started up and everyone's schedules were reduced to embers.

_"Then you thank God that he does. He's a fucking scrub, El! He will no show. It's a matter of time. You should fire him today, that's what you should do. Take the trash out, Bella. I told you he was sleeping at Stanley's place last weekend didn't I?"_

"Rose stop! We'll work it out. We always do. I'll talk to him today. I can't deal with the silence another second. It's too much... I know it hurts him too."

I _so _didn't need to know that he had been staying at Jessica Stanley's. That disease ridden cockhound was the bane of my existence. My stomach clenched and I held back stinging tears when I thought of when they were together. In high school it was one thing, but there was no excuse now.

_"Fine. Fuck, Bella, do what you want. No one ever could get through to you. I love you, but I'm done. When this happens again, and it will, I don't want to hear a word of it. Not one fucking word, you hear me?"_

"Loud and clear, Rose." I had just pulled into a parking spot behind the coffeehouse. I was twenty minutes early and didn't think Jasper was here yet. "Rose, gotta go. I'll call you later."

_"Bye,"_ she said, disconnecting us before I could.

My stomach was in ropes. I felt pulled and twisted tighter than a top ready to spin. I threw the phone into my purse and growled, grinding my teeth together and flipped open the visor to check my reflection. Good, everything looked good. Anger and hurt were very becoming on me. I just needed a little more lip gloss and my smoky eyes were perfect, pouty lips yummy, too. The asshole deserved hot, angry Bella today.

I checked the time, it was 2:44, so I hurried out of my car, hotfooting it to the back door. I hoped that he wasn't here yet. I never knew how he got to work anymore. Usually he would ride his bike or walk. Sometimes he got dropped off early. I never knew who drove him.

I opened the door, my heart pounding and mouth watering and walked toward the employee table. Scanning the entire shop, I was so in tune with him that I felt the hate, indifference and obsession he tried to hide before I even saw him. When I did see him, his face gave him away. Only I could see through the masks Jasper wore. I always could, especially when he thought I wasn't looking.

In junior high we were friends, lumped into the same nerdy category. We thought we were the shit though. In high school we were more distant, at least in our social circles. He picked me up and dropped me off, but we spent the day miles apart. We only saw each other in our art class.

Outside school, we were almost inseparable, though it came and went in waves. He had his distractions, I had mine. Our senior year, he got kicked out of his house. I've never learned why. He moved in with some girl a few towns over but still managed to get to class. He stopped picking me up after that. I waited for over an hour that first time. It felt like he had severed my limbs, cut away the highlight of my droll days. He didn't tell me about his mom giving him the boot or the girl he was staying with for two weeks. He avoided me completely until I cornered him in the supply closet in the art wing.

I walked silently to him from behind. The dim silver bulb reflected off the shelving and made shadows where there shouldn't have been any. I noticed that his clothes were dirty and his honey mane was matting up into a fat dreadlock again. He had a new tattoo on his hand and a cluster of cuts on his forearm.

He stilled his searching and heaved a great sigh when he sensed me in the room.

"I miss you, Toro." I used the nickname I'd given him, trying to keep him complacent. He was angry at something. He only gave me the cold shoulder when something big was up. What he was angry about was anyone's guess. I figured that he was mad at me for something, but most likely I was just projecting it onto myself.

He turned to me and the room shrank. I was flooded with anxiety and was afraid he would just ignore me. The shelves and canvases and stacks of paper seemed to suffocate me. I tried to breathe calmly as I chanced a peek at his face and then lowered my eyes.

I was suddenly very nervous.

I studied his hands. His fingernails were rimmed in dirt or dark paint. The veins in his muscular arms still stood out, raised and flowing, carrying the mercury that tempered his searing body. His plain black t-shirt had a corner torn into it just to the left of his bellybutton. His washboard abs were peeking out, as were three whips of the tribal tattoo that flanked his long torso.

He reached for me with both of his hands, his fingers overlapping around my biceps. A warm buzzing radiated from him into my skin and began spreading throughout my body. I gave no resistance and he pulled me to him easily. I rested my cheek on his chest and he wrapped his arms around me. They were hot and smooth as they glided over my arms and back. I inhaled him and nuzzled into his neck.

He smelled as dirty as he looked, like smoke and grease and some other girl, but underneath, the more I searched for it, I could find _him_. He had a feral musk that rendered me totally incoherent. If I could bathe in it I would. I would spray it everywhere and I would fuck it senseless. My belly tingled and my mouth watered at our closeness.

We never could be this close for long. Too much of me was on display. My want was easy to hide from the other side of the room. There was a time bomb in me and he was the detonator. I couldn't ever let him see what he did to me. No good would come of it. He seemed so uninterested in that, from me. If I slipped and made it known, I would be decimated by it.

Jasper didn't date girls like me. Plain, boring, smart Bella was reduced to the friend level. We were friends because we liked the same music, books, liquor. We had fun together, made each other howl with laughter, but with nothing more than that. He dated bad girls, girls out of high school, persons I despised, and persons he could never truly connect with. They would sleep with him, let him live in their apartments, drive him around and I had nothing to offer him, so I didn't bother. He never bothered looking. I both thanked him for that and resented him for it.

"I know, Peach. I know. I miss you, too."

I concentrated on my breathing and the accelerated beating of his heart, just the other side of his ribs from my ear. His words reverberated through his body and into mine. I smiled as hope and relief swelled in my chest. I thought that I had lost him, but he hadn't gone anywhere. He was here in this paint closet with me, just us alone.

He bent his head down and kissed my bare shoulder. The wet pucker burned into me as he lingered a few seconds too long, longer than he ever had. Shifting my weight, I pressed farther into him. Each inch stoned me tenfold. A hot brand scorched my insides and I pulled away before I could do something I would regret.

"El?" he asked, still holding onto my arms. "You okay?"

"Yeah." I lied. My head was spinning and I could barely breathe through the fume of his fragrance as it hovered around me like an intoxicating smog. I nearly choked on it.

"Hey," he said as he dropped his hands to his sides turning back to the shelf. "We gonna go to prom again this year?" We went our junior year, as friends of course. It was a blast. We were so drunk we nearly got expelled from school.

His casualness pissed me off, but I had been wondering if he was going to ask me. I guess this was all I was going to get. It was better than nothing. I was still reeling from the physical contact and the disarming bliss of his lips on my skin. His back was to me, so I shook my head from side to side, trying to clear the cloud that had covered me. It was like a Jasper gas chamber in here. I had to get out soon.

"Um, yeah. If you'd like." I didn't care either way about prom itself. I was ecstatic at the prospect of an entire evening in his company. I had missed him like I was missing fresh oxygen right now.

"I would like that, El, very much." He turned to look at me as he said it. His grey eyes were wide and shining and my hands shook as he stared at me.

"I just got this great Dolce & Gabanna at the Army the other day. Six bucks. It'll be perfect." I imagined him unzipping it, pulling the ice blue silk from my body. Yeah, right.

"Good score, there, Peach. Of course it will be perfect." He smiled. He was killing me with the nicknames. I guess I had started it, but I wasn't enjoying it anymore.

"Off the shoulder?" He winked and smirked. My knees were screaming at me to unlock them so they could collapse under me. I held them firm and the strain pierced through me to stay upright.

"How'd you guess?"

"You like your shoulders, a lot. You're always showing them off."

I raised my eyebrows at him. He couldn't possibly notice those things about me. I was a closed book on purpose. Every time my confidence threatened to break free, I shackled it heavier, afraid to let someone else control it.

A saddened shadow passed over his face and he averted his eyes for a split second. I stood there unable, unwilling, to move. The water was too high, we were seconds from drowning.

"I know you, Bella, better than you do," he muttered. Gooseflesh broke out on my arms and back. I felt my nipples turn to rocks under my thin cotton top.

"Heh," I laughed, dismissing him. "Okay, I have more matting to do. Banner is up my ass about the Spring Show. See ya."

"Bye," he smiled and I hightailed it back to my station.

My memories were frustrating. They infuriated me with their one-sided view. If I could just read his mind, then the ache of not knowing would be gone and I could think clearly when I was in his presence. He jumbled my brain with his running hot and cold.

I hung my jacket up on the pegboard and ignored his seated figure, just two feet away. He was leaning back on two legs of the chair, his arms slack, not looking at me. He had a new shirt on, a dusty red cowboy style. It was tight and the sleeves were rolled, revealing his thick tattooed arms. The gold face plates of the fifty or so coffee bins lining the walls around us cast a warm shine on his skin.

I was suddenly furious. Why was I constantly confined to such small spaces with him? Being within an arms length of him was doing nothing to help the urge I had to kick him in the balls and then pull his lips to mine.

He huffed and brought his chair down hard. Stomping from the small square table, he disappeared around the corner. When the back door slammed shut, I let out a long breath and rounded the table, stowing my purse under the counter.

"Hey, Bells!" Emmett called to me from behind the long counter.

"What up, Em?" I replied, tying my apron around my waist.

"Nothing. Stupid kids all afternoon. Ice cream and hot chocolates up the ass," he lamented.

"Wow, Em. Up the ass, huh? Fucking little bastards. Who the hell do they think they are?" I mocked, shaking my head in sarcastic disapproval.

The back door opened again as Emmett pulled me into a half hug. "He's in a bad way, El. Be good tonight."

Without hesitation, I smacked his chest and pulled out from under his arm. Jasper was now standing at the table, finishing a cup of coffee with his back to us. Not caring if he heard me or not, I told Emmett, "I don't care what way he's in. I'm just here to fucking work."

"Bella," Emmett implored. His blue eyes pleading with me to reign in the dragon. He was easily three times my size, but I tore him down with my leer.

"Don't Emmett. Just fucking don't," I hissed at him as quietly as I could. Jasper didn't need to know how badly he affected me still.

Emmett raised his hands, giving up. He looked at me like I was the evil whore who broke his best friend. He turned to help the lone customer who had wandered into the shitstorm.

I made my way to the espresso machine to backflush before shift change. I engaged the portafilter into the right group head and turned to Emmett for the man's order.

"Cubano mach and a God shot."

I nodded and began prepping the cups. The guy was going to have to wait at least five minutes for the shot. I can't ever get God on the first dose.

As I made the macchiato, I watched Emmett cash out his tips and listened to he and Jasper make small talk. I frowned, straining to listen to Jasper. It must have been as bad as Emmett had told me if even with his closest friend he was strained and thin. I decided to ignore them, counting the extraction time of the espresso in my head. I poured the stretched milk and topped the mach with a small heart.

"Cubano!" I shouted and set the cup and saucer on the pick up counter. Jasper's head snapped up at the sound of my voice and I swung mine around to look at him. I tried to put the breaks on it, tried to not bring my gaze his way, but I couldn't stop myself.

His eyes were sad and rimmed with red, like he hadn't slept in days. He seemed skinnier, withered. His lips were pale, but I could see bright red at their center as he chewed the corner of his lower lip into his mouth. With clenched fists he hopped up onto the espresso platform, never taking his eyes off me. I turned away, lightheaded and enraged at his advancement toward me and the visual confrontation.

The customer was now at the counter and I informed him with a smile that I would bring his shot to him when it was perfect. He winked at me and walked back to his seat. When I stepped back, Jasper was nowhere to be seen.

I busied myself with silverware and dirty dishes for the twenty minutes it took Jasper to reappear with the fill from the basement. We put the supplies away together, neither of us uttering a word. We didn't even apologize if we got in the other's way. We orbited around each other like fucking evasion professionals, taking turns helping the customers when they came in, but otherwise we were so slow that we just made up shit to do to stay occupied.

One customer asked him if we had anymore scones. Since I'd already put them away I squatted down to check the bin. I guess I was being a little too helpful because Jasper just watched me and I couldn't tell if he was fascinated or disgusted. His Bella mask was all fucking over the place today. One minute he was sad clown, the next minute happy clown. Then there was angry, regretful, sleepy, frustrated and stoned.

I laughed out loud. _And p__eople thought I was the one with a personality disorder. _

I caught him still looking at me out of the corner of his eye, probably trying to figure out what I was laughing at.

"We have Cherry, Spinach feta, and Cinnamon," I informed the customer. I was still grinning and most likely looked like a total nutter.

"Cinnamon, please."

I grabbed the wrapped scone and tossed it to Jasper. He caught it, gaping at me like it was a butcher knife and not a floury confection. He said nothing, just continued ringing the guy up. I laughed again, silently this time, as I scooted by him to make myself a coffee. The hilarity of the situation wasn't completely lost on me. At this point, we had known each other for going on thirteen years. He was the closest and oldest friend I had and though we worked side by side four days a week, eight hours each time, we hadn't spoken in two months. It was pure insanity.

He and Edward got along just fine. Edward wasn't thrilled that I was so attached to Jasper, but he understood that our relationship was complicated and long standing. It would end if and when it was going to.

I kept him ignorant of a lot of information though, so it didn't surprise me that Rose thought he should be more upset than he was. I couldn't keep any detail from her, but Rose was loyal, almost to a fault. If I swore her to secrecy, she took that shit to the grave, even if it wasn't in her best interest to do so. I was as confident in her ability to keep her mouth shut as I was in my own.

Edward was... well, he was Edward. We were complicated, too. He was safe and reliable and worshipped the ground I walked on, even if he did so subtly. I loved him to pieces. He was smart and funny, a little too shy sometimes, unsure of himself. I hoped that I could boost his confidence, but things on that front were a slow go. He was always there for me, even when I didn't need him to be.

He didn't know about my past with Jasper. Not many did. Those who knew, knew to keep fucking mum about it, especially around Edward. I anticipated a slip at some point in the future. Edward was bound to find out sooner or later. I wasn't looking forward to that conversation, so I pretended that it wouldn't ever happen. As for our current situation, it was obvious that Jasper and I were fighting and everyone knew. Edward had encouraged me to talk to him about it, get it out before it skinned us alive.

Coffee in hand, I went outside to have a smoke. The curb was inviting and I closed the back door behind me. Nodding to the neighbor lady as she descended her stairs toward me, I sat heavily but tried to look jovial. There was an apartment above the bar next door and the woman who lived there was a parking garage attendant. I guess it made sense to work midnights when the racket would just keep you up anyway.

"Bella," she greeted with a smile. "How's the evening?"

"Hi Jane. The evening is good. Off to work?"

"Yep. Gotta feed my habit." she laughed, kicking her booted leg up so I could check out her newest purchase. She was sporting shiny silver Doc Martens, fourteen eyelets.

"Good Christ, those are hot!" I gave her a thumbs up.

"Thanks! See ya!"

"Bye!"

I lit my cigarette and inhaled deeply. Elbows on my knees, I hung my head down. Two hours had gone by and I still couldn't come up with a way to break the ice. I didn't want to be the one to give in first. I wanted him to come to me to apologize. He was the one who stood me up and didn't call. All I had done was let him know, withholding my words and eyes, that I was pissed about it.

It was probably for the better that we hadn't gone out that night. Things would have exploded. Every time we saw each other, we were just inches from that beautiful drowning. The less that happened the better. I always went right home and seduced Edward, somehow finding my redemption in his skin.

I shook my head, recalling memories I'd not thought about in a long time.

I still had the blue dress I wore to our senior prom. It hides so far back in my closet that I never see it. I'm not sure I could look at it without crying or tearing it to shreds.

Jasper went all out that night. He got a limo and a new tux. He bought me the most beautiful corsage I had ever seen—red spotted white orchids and hot pink hibiscus. He pinned it to the dress just above my breast. His fingers fluttered under the lip of the fabric, inches from a blushing bud, just inches from my thumping heart.

My mother took our picture a thousand times. I remember getting them back from the developer. We looked perfect; Jasper in his slim tuxedo with that skinny tie looked like a model. His shoulder length hair was pulled back and combed smooth, only curling a bit in his still damp ponytail. He tilted his head and I wanted to lick the spike of tattoo that crept out from under his collar.

The grey-blue of my dress brought out my eyes and the semi-permanent blush I was consumed with. Jasper kept his hands on me somehow, in some way, since he arrived. As Renee snapped on and on, his palm slowly worked its way down from the middle of my back to just barely above my ass. His skin was hot and through my dress I could feel the steamy moisture that gathered on his palm. In the pictures I looked happy, euphoric even; my head was thrown back in laughter as Jasper made crude jokes in my ear. The long slit up the side of the dress was almost scandalous and Jasper made sure I knew just how much so.

Once we tore away from Renee, Jasper led me to the limo and helped me in. First to be picked up, last to be dropped off.

"You look amazing, Peach. I could just eat you up," he whispered in my ear as the driver pulled on to the highway.

"You better hurry. What happens when I'm all gone? You don't like leftovers do you, Toro?" I wasn't sure where the courage to say that aloud came from, but I wasn't disappointed in its reception. He stiffened and cleared his throat reaching toward the mini fridge in the center of the car.

I watched him pour vodka and Red Bull into champagne glasses and then carefully put the mixers away. He turned and held one out for me to take. I stared into the glass as he reseated himself beside me. His thigh grazed mine, pulling my dress up slightly. The slit opened up and my entire leg was on display. His hand met my skin briefly and he recoiled, as if I were made of fire. I lifted my glass to toast, ignoring the tingle on my skin and the ache in my belly.

"To prom," I said without much muster. Jasper turned to me, his eyes searching my face for something.

"To us," he corrected. We clinked our glasses and both shot the drinks down. Looking around the limo, I noticed two full fifths of Grey Goose and three bags of mixers. There were some pretzels and a change of clothes spilling out of Jasper's bag. Briefly, I wondered where he had gotten the money for all this pomp and circumstance, but just as quickly decided not to question it.

"Who are we picking up first?" I asked the side of his face. He was staring out the window, his fingers twitching on his knee. This afforded me a moment to notice that he had shaved, his hair was clean and now that I was really paying attention, he was also weraing cologne. It was faint, but it was there. He probably put it on, then decided against it and tried to towel it off. I smiled at the thought just as he turned to me.

He looked shocked and confused seeing me so serene. "Rose and Emmett, then Ben and Angie."

"Cool, we'll probably have to do pictures again when we get to them." I handed him my glass, hoping he'd make me another. This liquid courage would come in handy tonight. Just the one had taken the edge off dramatically.

My mind drifted to Jasper getting dressed for prom night. I sucked down the hatred for the girl whose house he must have gotten ready at. I decided to pretend she didn't exist and that he got ready at his own apartment, alone, thinking about me the whole time.

He knelt down and collected the fifth and two more cans of Red Bull, bringing them back to the seat with him. He set the cans between us and stole another touch of my thigh. His very presence was making me wet, he didn't need to accidentally touch me. I was growing more complacent with every passing second. He could have torn my dress off and taken me right there in the limo and I would have participated one hundred and ten percent.

"Did you take a shower or a bath today?" he asked, topping off the two glasses squeezed between his legs.

I scrunched my face. He wanted to know which method I used to clean myself? An odd question, but Jasper always did want to know the more intimate details of my life. I hadn't put much thought into it as the inquiries always seemed harmless.

"Bath," I answered, taking my glass from his thighs. I sipped it this time. It was stronger than the one before and I wondered if he was trying to get me drunk. Doing a fine job if that myself, he didn't need to participate as well.

"Did you shave?" he asked quietly, looking down at my legs.

_Deep breaths, Bella. His voice did not just get lower. You're imagining things._

"Yes." I tilted my head at him, trying to discern where his line of questioning could be leading.

"Can I check?" he asked, holding his hand out in front me a foot above my knee. He wanted to touch me as much I wanted him to. My bare leg must have been taunting him. As sure as I was that Jasper wasn't attracted to me, all dressed up and with makeup on I must look like a different person.

"Sure, but you have no reason to not believe me."

"I know," he whispered, still not looking at me. His hand surrounded my knee. It felt like heaven seeping through my skin, warm and soft and a touch too forceful. His fingers gripped tightly and he ran his hand down to my ankle, bending over to stretch all the way. I pressed my body against the seat as he drew it back up lightly, his fingers like feathers on my calf. They snuck around and behind my knee and I brought my leg a couple inches off the leather as he tickled and probed. His hand bent around the inside of my thigh and I swore I heard angels singing, gongs being assaulted, saw supernovas exploding in the sky.

I couldn't look at him and closed my eyes as he turned his face to me. I fought the urge to snap my thighs shut, trap his hand there and swallow it with my body. I wanted to ride it until I came. His hand closed around my flesh, pinching, grabbing too tightly but not tight enough, not high enough. He twisted his hand and dug his nails in. I gasped and he quickly let me go.

Finally I watched him. Silent except for our breathing, his eyes raked over my body in disbelief, like he couldn't believe what he had done and he couldn't wait to do it again. We pulled into Rose's driveway and as soon as the car stopped Jasper jumped out, extending his hand to me.

I shook my head at the memory. It still managed to tease me, even though it was so long ago. It made me mad as hell that I could still feel his fingers on me, could still almost taste that cologne on my tongue. The memories were slightly hazy, but with my senses I would remember them forever. I threw my cigarette butt into the storm drain and readied myself for the rest of the shift. I walked in and went straight to the sandwich board. The sooner I closed the shop down, the sooner I could get the fuck out of there. Six hours left to go and I refused to spend it miserable.

I scrubbed every nook and cranny in the place, used a toothbrush and my fingernails to dig out the espresso caked into the crevices of the counter top. I wiped every smooth surface and stray coffee spray off the walls and shelves. Jasper waited on the customers and I focused my pain and anger on the dirt and grime. It was cathartic and a better idea than scrubbing his eyeballs out with a wire brush. I helped him when he was in the weeds, but could tell he was trying to stay on top of the line, not wanting my help.

Each lungful of bleach and every nail I broke was my penance for that night. That night changed everything. We were never the same after prom.

We drank and laughed with Rose and Emmett on the way to Angie's. Once there, more pictures were snapped. Our poses were looser and more provocative. The one of us all, the girls out in front a bit and the boys behind us, still haunted me.

Jasper had his hand cupped around my shoulder. He whispered in my ear again how edible I looked. Just as Mrs. Weber told us to smile he closed his lips on my neck, sinking his teeth into my flesh. He sucked my skin into his mouth, his tongue lathed over the surface. My knees wobbled and he locked his arm around my waist to keep me standing against him. She had perfect fucking timing, catching us at our most intimate, most rabid second. I wanted to burn it—burn my fucking hungry, lustful face off of it. I tried to get the picture from Angie, but she wouldn't give it up.

He didn't touch me again until we arrived at the dance. Once inside, he didn't let me out of his sight for one second. We huddled in a corner, the six of us, spiked our punch and made fun of the people dancing. Rose and Emmett left first, once a slow song came on, then Ang and Ben. Jasper sat me down on his lap, possessively wrapping his arms around my waist. I tried to stay still, enjoying the contact far too much for my own good.

I stood the second I felt him twitch under me. "Can we dance?" I asked.

He narrowed his eyes at me for one second before smiling, "Sure, Peach. I'm sorry I didn't ask."

"It's fine." I lied, again. I always lied to him. I didn't know why. It was just easier to go at his pace, not to disrupt the flow. He grabbed my hand and kissed it, looking directly into my eyes and led me to the floor.

Pressed together, I could almost forget that we didn't belong to each other. I rested my head on his chest and he held me with strong arms. We were peacefully ignorant for three songs before the tempo picked up again. He took my hand again and pulled me across the gym to the door.

"Where are we going, Toro?"

"Out here, I just need some air."

He led me to the back of the building. My heels sunk into the grass so I stopped to take them off. Jasper's eyes lingered on me as I set my shoes off to the side and leaned against the brick.

"You are perfect tonight, El, just like I said you would be."

The moon was waxing and the way the clouds sheered over it was beautiful, but I could hardly see it through the tears stinging my eyes. That moon was the only light this side of the school and I continued to gaze skyway as I answered him. "I'm always perfect when you want me to be."

"I've always wanted you to be." His voice was soft and meaningful, like a different person was saying those words. I closed my bursting heart and dropped my gaze to him. He was looking at his feet, his hands in his pockets.

"Well, then, Jasper, I guess I always will be."

Raising his head to me, the look on his face took my breath away. Pure and unfathomable pain marred his features. He was more beautiful and more ugly than he had ever been. I choked on a sob and within a second he was in front of me, pressing me into the wall.

"Bella, Peach, baby." He hovered, hands and lips around my face. He brought his fingers to my cheeks and gently pulled, resting his forehead on mine and I tried to breathe through the tightening in my chest.

"Why, Jasper? Why?" I sobbed. He looked into my watery eyes and I knew he was going to do it. I could see his lips twitching and feel his ragged breath on my skin. My body quivered, already prepared for what might come.

"I'll never know," he whispered, pressing his lips to mine. I would have collapsed if he weren't pressed so tightly against me, holding me up, igniting my every desire for him. I kissed back—kissed him like this might be the only time I would ever get to. I found his tongue and melted into it, fought with it and savored every ounce of him I tasted. I'd never kissed anyone like this before, with my whole body, my whole soul open and bared for him to take. He matched me, his soft lips devouring mine.

Holding my ribs he dragged his thumbs across my breasts and I searched his mouth deeper, snaking my fingers into his hair. I yanked out his ponytail and ran both my hands through his locks. Groaning, he swept my dress up to maneuver his thigh between mine. He grabbed my ass, lifting me, and ground me into him; his lips greedily roamed my neck and shoulders.

"Limo, Toro. Limo," I rasped into his neck, my tongue tasting his salty flesh.

"Good idea." We broke apart and ran for the car. He opened the back door and helped me inside. As I sat, I heard him knock on the driver's window.

"We need the car for a spell. Close it up and don't let anyone come near it," he demanded. "Lock it please, all the doors." The driver exited, locking the doors. Jasper ran back around and shut us in behind him.

No two people had ever torn each others' clothes off faster. He knelt on the floor between my legs, kissed every inch of me he could, finally puckering his mouth on my slit. His tongue probed and circled as he swallowed me. His hair tickled my thighs. I gathered it up and off of his face, holding his head in my hands. Eyes wide open, locked onto mine, he latched onto my clit and sucked, still flicking with the tip of his tongue. I came so fast and so hard I saw stars and lifted my hips to his face, moving his head myself as I rode it out.

"Fucking hell, Peach." He fought for his breath as he tore himself away from me, eyes wild and raging. "You taste so good. I always knew you would." I sat up and locked my legs around him.

"I know," I rasped, crashing my lips into his. He wrapped his hands around my hips and pulled me to the edge of the seat. He was huge and hard and sliding against my wetness. I ached for him, knowing no hesitation.

"Jasper, please!" My well was overflowing. We were too far beyond our imaginary line at this point. I'd never wanted anything like I wanted him now.

I almost wrestled him to the floor, but he held me down on the seat.

"Fuck, Bella!" he growled as he pierced into me. My walls stretched to their limit and I cried out again as he buried himself inside me.

Of course, as the limo pulled up to my house hours later, he went and ruined the best night of my life.

"Want to come in?" I asked, hoping he would stay over. Met with silence, I turned to him.

"El, I'm going to California."

"What? When?" I shook my head, trying to recall details I had obviously missed.

"My flight is tomorrow at two." He wasn't looking at me. Total shock and complete panic overwhelmed me. He was just going to fuck me and leave? Was he even going to tell me? Why would he tell me now if he wasn't just trying to hurt me? I was furious. Blind rage, I think they call it. I could see nothing, just red. I would have murdered him if I had a weapon.

"You son of a bitch," I growled. Needing to release something, I turned and punched him in the chest. He winced but said nothing, looked at nothing. I sat there gaping, wishing I could undo the whole evening and erase the last six years.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"No you're not." I opened the door, ready to wish him good riddance.

"I love you," I thought I heard him say.

Pausing with one foot out the door, I exhaled. "No," I said, my voice low and weary. "You don't."

I must have zoned out under the sink with a scrubbie in my hand, because I suddenly heard Jasper yell my name and then felt him shake my arm.

"What?" I asked. He was kneeling next to me.

"Are you okay?'

Was I okay? Yes and no. Obviously, I had nearly gone into a coma remembering the first time he and I had sex, the night that nearly killed me. That should be labeled as very, very not okay. I was physically fine, which I'm sure was what he meant.

"Yeah, I'm okay." I looked away from him back down to the floor I'd been cleaning. He stood and walked away.

One hour until close and he would be gone, again. We got a shipment of coffee in once a week and since we blended our espresso and a few house brews, we had to be on top of that shit. I'd forgotten that blends needed to be done. It usually meant me staying after close to get it done and tonight would be no different.

We were ahead of schedule cleaning up, since we were slow and had nothing to focus on except our stalemate. He wasn't going to budge and I certainly wasn't. The fact that my fantasy had tricked me into talking to him in the first place pissed me off. His absolute stubbornness to man up and apologize convinced me to keep my mouth shut. I thought that maybe he was going to say something when he shook me out of my daze, but I was wrong.

_Fuck him. He doesn't deserve to hear my voice anymore. I'll hire as many people as I have to in order to guarantee we never work together again._

The clock said 10:55 so I switched off the "open" sign and shut off the porch light. I had to talk to him now. I was done with all my work behind the counter and I wanted to start on the blends in the basement. He didn't know, so I figured it best to tell him that he didn't have to wait around for me.

He was crouched down by the stereo, flipping through CD's. I walked over toward him. As I neared, he stopped his scanning and looked up at me.

"I'm done behind the counter and have to do the blends, so don't wait for me. I'll be a while. Just lock the doors before you go." I spun around and walked to the basement. My blood was pounding in my ears and I was glad for the stereo when he turned it on.

I got lost in the work. The sound of the beans hitting the plastic bucket, the smooth pebbled feel of them on my hands as I mixed them almost calmed me. I heard the music go off about a half hour later and expected to hear the close when he left, but I didn't.

He had turned the lights off, so I assumed I just didn't hear him leave. Then I heard walking through the ceiling. The steps got closer to the stairs and my angry, aching heart leapt when I saw his feet descending. I tried to ignore him and kept my eyes lowered as he walked closer to me.

The basement was a tiny maze, with low ceilings and pipes hanging down. The blends room was the entryway to the dungeon. It was creepily yellow, bright with fluorescent light and stainless steel tables. There was only two feet of free space on either side of me and if he needed to get by I would have to acknowledge him, but he just stood there, facing me. My mind was a riot, trying to figure out what he would say and my body betrayed it, wondering how close he would get.

"Peach?"

That word knocked me on my ass. Images flooded my mind and my blood boiled.

"No! You do _not _get to call me that!" I yelled at him, louder than I ever had. He didn't look shocked or even surprised. My whole body was rigid with rage.

"I'm sorry."

Blind again. "You're sorry!" I screeched, "For what, Jasper? For fucking me around for the last twelve years? For using me and pushing me away? What exactly are you sorry for, huh? You are a black fucking hole that I cannot stop from sucking me in!" I backhanded an empty bucket off the table, hitting him in the knees.

I tried to push past him. Fuck the blends, fuck this place, fuck his face. I was done with meaningless apologies. He held my arms and wouldn't let me through. He was still as warm as I remember. The tingle was still there where our skin met.

"Let me the fuck go, Jasper," I said to his chest, my body shaking. I braced myself. The love and fury ignited inside me were winning. I pushed away from him, nauseated that I would want _that_, of all things, right now.

"Bella, wait." His words were soft and I pounded on his chest with both fists for it.

"Wait for what? I have been fucking waiting! What are you hoping to accomplish here? This was obviously the end. Why can't you just disappear again, leave me alone?" I wasn't fighting the tears anymore and let them fall free. It felt good to release some of the sorrow. I didn't want him to disappear, but I just couldn't suffer him anymore.

His eyes were pools of regret and adoration; a small frown pulled on his lips. That was my mask, the one designed for me.

"Bella, you're not listening to me. You're waiting for words that aren't there. I love you and you know that. I've told you seven thousand times." Each word was punctuated with his body as he pushed himself into me, tightly holding my arms.

"You don't love me," I said. "You never have. If you did, you wouldn't be doing this."

"All I do…is want you. Wait for you. Watch you," he whispered in my ear. His voice cracked and faltered. As he said the words I'd longed to hear, he walked me backward to the edge of the table. His fingers traded my arms for my waist and my hands trembled, wanting the feel of him underneath them.

"El? Look at me."

I met his eyes again and nothing mattered anymore, nothing had even happened. It was 1998 again; I was the prom girl finally getting the guy. I inhaled his fragrance and it hurt, more than it ever had. His fingers were digging into me and I broke free of my chain. I attacked his lips with mine. Buckets fell and beans spilled as he launched me onto the table.

We wrapped around each other like we were two snakes, charming our way into each others' veins. He lifted my shirt, tearing my bra off, and crashed his lips back down into mine. Our hair was in our mouths, getting sucked and soaked in between our kisses. Four hands searched—bruising, caressing, pulling and pinching over every inch.

We tore the rest of our clothes off, desperate to be together again. I reached for the table behind me as Jasper lifted me off the ground. I leaned back, staring at him, daring him to avert his eyes. My ass rested half off the cold steel and our motions slowed as we both realized we were only damning ourselves for eternity if we continued.

His unyielding tip at my entrance, he spoke haggardly, "Leave with me, Peach. Leave with me tonight."

His strong painted arms supported most of my weight, and rather than give him the answer we both knew I would, I slid myself onto him; tears and curses of years destroyed, of ecstasy, burst from my senses.

He did not try to stop me. Words were lost as he fucked me slow and hard, the table hitting the wall with each thrust. With his help, I held myself up and propelled myself onto him.

My arms, weak and strained, finally crumpled under me. He caught me and laid me down on the cold silver, stole my hand and brought it to where we met.

"Please, Peach. I want to watch you come," he demanded with intense eyes.

With two fingers, I circled my clit, bearing down as best I could in his hold. Mere seconds passed before the agonizing throb crashed through me and directly into him. I screamed his name as my body compressed around his.

"My God," he spat in awe, pounding me harder and faster.

I fought to keep my head up, but it was no use. I rolled it back as I felt his release and shattered again on the table.

He continued to slide in and out of me as we caught our breath. I stared at the ceiling, tears oozing from my eyes. I was certain that this was the last I would be seeing of him for a long time. He pulled out of me slowly and I felt both free and ashamed. It hurt my heart, my broken soul, to let him go, but the years I'd wasted waiting for him I would never get back. It was time.

He held me steady and helped me up. I wrapped my arms around him one last time. I buried my face in his chest and breathed as deep as I could, held it inside me, to remember it forever.

We dressed under a black cloud, glancing at each other often. Silently, we straightened up the room and headed for the stairs. He held my hand until I shut the backdoor behind me. The black sky was moonless and clear. Late summer was shifting to fall. I rid my head of his scent with the sweet mild air. He stopped walking and pulled me to him. His warm hands roamed my face and neck, tangled into my hair.

"I'm leaving, Peach," he breathed into my face.

"I gathered." Lips light and swollen seemed so foreign already. They grew cold and wet as they drifted against mine. "Be safe." I sucked his bottom lip into my mouth for one last taste and let go.

Reluctantly removing my hands from his stomach, I walked unsteadily to my car. This numbness was better than the anguish of the last twelve years. If I could just hang onto it, I might one day think I made the right decision tonight. In the dark car I turned to look for him, but he was gone. Nothing ever came to replace the tears, they just disappeared. I went home to Edward's arms wondering how long Jasper would stay away this time. 


	3. Chapter 2: étrangers

**Disclaimer: SM owns Twilight and the characters. This story, minus those attributes, belongs to me, mopstyle © Into Strangers, 2009.**

**To my lovely Detroitangel, Allysue08, and NCChris thank you for pre-reads and beta'ing. You're all wonderful. I could not wait to post this chapter.**

**The battle begins, bbs. Hang on. This is five years after Chapter One.**

~/~

* * *

**May, 2009 **

~Bella~

I was always faced with his existence at the worst possible times. Never mind that, on some level, I was constantly looking for him everywhere I went. I completely avoided certain parts of town, drove around entire blocks, because they reminded me too much of him. Just being there again, it was...like going back in time. I hadn't been back in so long. My skin crawled and my belly fluttered and I wanted to throw up when I thought of our essences, auras, still permeating energy in these now desolate spots.

Aroused by a certain smell or that time of day when the darkest of hours give slowly into the seeping morning light, there was nothing I could do to stop from remembering the what and where of Jasper.

I'd never look at the rain the same again, and I'd never get those places back. There were a dozen areas in town that I pretended did not exist, so that I might also pretend that he never did.

Winter was always very dark. I wasn't aware that one person could ruin whole periods of time. Every year, I spent months letting him creep into my thoughts only to push him out as fast as I could. I hadn't failed to realize that he ingrained himself into my life so thoroughly that he was still present for every step. I am where I am today, because of him. There were thousands of chances we missed and I was recalling each one with perfect clarity because he is all I'd ever wanted, even when I didn't.

I lay in my half cold bed listening to the radiator gurgle and ting, furious and resentful, at him and at myself, for being so careless. We both strayed too far into neutral territory. I should have known it would happen sometime. Living in a town so small, I was grateful to be given five years to try to forget the worst of what we were. The torrid memories would have flooded back even more quickly than they did. If not, I may not have had the presence of mind to turn away from him, ignore that he was there.

Freezing, despite the extra blankets and shitty heating, I shivered. My ashtray is overflowing and I stared at it, then stared at the bedside table and contemplated the dust that collected on the unused portions. Had he not found permanent residence, tattooed himself on my soul, would I still have had control over that parcel of myself? Could I chance a peek back into that room, where that dusty girl sits and waits? Could I revive her? Or was she doomed to a lifetime of isolated decay because waiting was all she ever did?

I ran my finger over the once glossy black tabletop, leaving a streak of clean behind. The film was grainy on my finger, but soft; like I imagined a cloud would be. I studied the gray substance as it pilled and stuck together between my thumb and index finger; I was trying to rid myself of its contamination. Minutes later, I could still feel it on my skin. I stared at the scar of cleanliness on the table and I wondered if I should have just left well enough alone. The table is ugly now, because I could only just try a little; it was never enough. It was never all of me.

I wasn't sure that I didn't want that powder covering everything, but I did know that I didn't want random strips exposed. There was a time once when I was glossy and new. I was clean, eager, able and right there for him to use. He did, for a while. Until it became too much work to keep me new, and the part of myself that I gave to him sat discarded and ignored, collecting the dust that still settled even after he was long gone.

I turned the light off and thought of his face, hoping that tonight I would dream of pleasant things, not running, not trying to avoid him and even though he was always just in the next room, I denied it to myself. He was the boogieman and enemy and I had a will to survive and as soon as I decided that I was alone, the wall disappeared. I climbed a narrow and crumbling staircase, and saw him out of the corner of my eye. I convinced myself that this was _my _dream and that it wouldn't be him there, when I got to the top. There would not be anyone there at all. As I woke myself in a panic, I denied that it was his dark silhouette sweeping by my face just as I opened my eyes.

He was naked this time and strangely, that didn't bother me as much as it probably should have. We spent a lot of time together that way. We spent a lot of time creating as many new memories as we could, so that we could replace those that tore our hearts through our ribs. They just hurt too much.

Somehow, every moment we were together ended up hurting too much and nothing we did could erase that.

"Peach," he would call me. I swore I would hear him miles away if he called out to me. He would touch my jaw with two fingers. It meant I was to look up at him. His eyes would shine and bore into mine, revealing the rabid man underneath. I wanted nothing more than to release him.

"I never said I didn't love you," he whispered in my ear as he slid slowly into me.

I sighed. His body stretched mine, but I winced only at his words, sucking back tears. He felt like heaven, a drug and I was insatiable. He may have never said that he didn't love me, but he never said that he did.

Once upon a time I loved him. I could help him, hurt him. We waited and silently haunted. We played and destroyed. The beast that would be the toughest to tame was the only one I wanted to fight. It scared me to death and I didn't know if I wanted to love him again.

I tried to so hard to get inside him, hoping that slowly he would let me. Then there were no more letters, was no more fear. We weighed the same, smelled the same. We released and we found the piece that sealed us. It was always Jasper. I woke up that first morning, wrapped in his warmth and I couldn't get used to the trouble he meant to me. I didn't know if I could soothe him. What could I do but try? Had I known how wrong it was, how desperately he wanted me and how much he hated me, I would never have tried so hard.

Thirty days was all I got and just when I was sad enough, I carried him. We'd finally reached something we both wanted, but it rained every day and we weren't the same. For what it was worth, he was someone else and I didn't want that Jasper. I couldn't keep him, but I nourished it and fed him. Still, we shrank and felt the pain. I could see it in his eyes. If he could look at me tomorrow and fucking tell me the truth, I would turn and walk away. I would be gone for him. Always for him.

~/~

~Jasper~

I wondered what the difference was between old and new, between dark and light. I was lost somewhere near her all the time. I tried to recall the moment she embossed my heart, my very being, with her signature. The times came and went when I should have told her something, anything, but my mouth would not make the words. She wanted to hear more, but I had no more to say. The times I left, she may have come with me. She might have asked and I may have stayed. Would it have made any difference if I had? I was sorry that I failed her, that I could not change anything. I couldn't change her mind.

I was starting to wish that the night would never come. There was no point in dreaming anymore, if all I did was dream about her. The stars were a wicked reminder of the nights spent memorizing her, making love to her. I would fall asleep listening to her raspy breathing and her vital heart. She would wrap herself around me; I would gather her closer. It was too late then to take any of it back. I let her in, wanting to, knowing my frailties did not necessarily make her my enemy, but I shouldn't have trusted her with them in the first place. If this heartbreak was to be my very endurance, my very undoing, and I sicken at the pretense of it, then the prize need to be worth it. It needed to heal it. Bella healed one wound, but always opened another.

I lay there alone and regretful, feeling like I was on death row and that something about my days had grown too quiet and too familiar. Everything was a mockery and everything must be burnt.

It must have been what people go through just before they slip the noose over their head. Suicide—a pathetic waste of time and energy, not to mention pride, but I suppose some people cannot be stopped. I was too selfish to kill myself—the possibility of missing out on seeing her face one more time was too sickening a thought.

It had been months since I last saw her, but that was not so uncommon. It was a better day when I avoided her without consciously knowing it. We lived in a small town, so someone like Bella did not go unnoticed. She never noticed me though. Day by day she seemed to grow more tense, switching from a paranoid scrutiny of her surroundings to serenely smiling at them. I could not get enough of watching her. I knew most of what happened in her life since I left and since I came back. The sick and curious confirmations made me prickle with something close to hope, but hope for what, I did not know. She said no. She did not want me. I gave her everything and she turned it down. I wondered if she knew I was living in Forks again. It seemed like she would. She still saw Rose and Emmett. Surely Emmett had mentioned me? That was thin ice, right there. If I wasn't careful, we could both end up at their place at the same time. In five years, it hadn't happened. Something was bound to fuck that up eventually.

From what I'd observed, she was different now, though still beautiful and barren. Tattooed and poured into chic thrift store clothes, she was learning what her skin could stand. Her eyes showed me that she had given all she can and that she is damaged. So much of what she used to be is missing from her face. I can feel her, like we're still connected. It scares me and makes me crazy. Edward is gone and has been since I went back to California. I have no idea where he went and I don't care, but I'd just as soon lock myself up forever than start with her again. So I'll just pretend I'm gone, as well. She'll sleep tonight and I may, as well, but I'll never quite forgive her and I'll always be where she put me.

Like every night, I lay awake for hours and think about the past. It's almost as if I cannot see what might lie ahead, almost as if I am convinced that there is nothing there without her. I pleasured myself thinking about her flesh. She was possessed, a rare, raw devil of sex and smell and taste. There was no salvation for me. For us. We fucked ourselves into the fiery pits of hell over and over again, but no flesh, no mouth, no movement ever compared. She would forever be the one and I would forever be the damned—addicted and living like a wraith, waiting to be graced again.

I came screaming not her name, not anything coherent. I could not bring myself to think of her face or her body as I released. I had used her enough. It was time to put her away for good. I slept finally, but restlessly. I didn't dream of her and when I awoke her ghost was gone. It was the first morning that I did not miss her slick skin, that I did not long to wake up inside her.


	4. Chapter 3: amis

"_A little dust never stopped me now...  
Sometimes I can hold my tongue  
Sometimes not, when you just...  
And you know what you're doin'  
So don't even"_

_Tori Amos, Honey_

Okay, so I know that I cannot just write a fucking story from beginning to end and I'm okay with that. I will inform you of the time line, I promise. Maybe I'll even draw one up and post it as a teaser. ;)

Sometimes, the way the story needs to be told cannot be done chronologically. Maybe that is a bullshit, lame excuse and I should be ashamed that I cannot give it to you straight. Straight has never been my thing. I do promise to give it to you hard and make you cry out, it hurts so good.

Thank you, Allysue08 and Detroitangel.

The night that made them fight in the first place.

* * *

_**July, 2004.**_

~Bella~

To tell how many times I sat at that same table, week after week, just wouldn't quite do the trouble justice. I toed the metal leg, my flip-flops loose underneath me, my bare heel touched the cold marble floor and I wondered if being here this time was going to make us, or break us. The beer was bitter, too much hops. I could feel it churning in my stomach already. I smiled and wished I had ordered something different, but I downed it anyway. He said it was good. It was on special, as well.

Dark bars, dark streets, dark hearts and secrets, that was all we were. It may have been what we had always been. Something was clandestine the whole time. Even when we first met it seemed like we shouldn't be looking at each other, shouldn't be speaking, staring in each others eyes, or sitting so close together. At twelve, what does one know about fate, the stars, or how forces align? He felt familiar, like I thought I felt. We were so soft and scared and new; it was both our first days.

He sat behind me and I leaned back as he leaned in. We were inches from each other. I said hi and he looked away. His cheeks reddened and his eyes watered. I turned away, afraid of seeing this pretty little blonde boy cry.

It was hard to pay attention to the teacher. I could hear his every breath and it ached, deep inside my chest. The urge to go to him, run away with him, was intense, but I ignored him. There was so much feeling in my little body and I sat there day after day, listening to him breathe. Eventually he talked. Not to me, but to James. He sat next to Jasper. They seemed to hit it off well, talking of music and comics and normal twelve year old boy stuff. I was somewhat interested, but feigned the dis of it.

I was nothing much to look at, that was for sure. As a pubescent, plump, awkward girl with unevenly cut hair and bright clothes, I was practically ignored and often mocked. Not straying too far out of my comfort zone, I wasn't needy and rarely cared for any attention. Wanting to be liked and the steps involved in that process just didn't appeal to me. With a few girl friends I managed to finish my first semester without much incident.

He still shared his sighing, from behind, and I still reveled in it. I could feel it on the back of my neck, like he was whispering his hello, but he paid me no mind. I was nobody. I knew that, but I leaned back anyway. I swear he always moved forward.

The last day of the sixth grade he finally talked to me. I was reading, minding my own business and the lights were off because it was 90 freaking degrees outside and the school couldn't afford air conditioning. James had taken to insulting me on a daily basis, for reasons unknown. He never went so far as to actually hurt my feelings. It took a little more than him saying I was too poor for new clothes, or that I was too ugly to have ever kissed a boy, to get me upset.

I was unaware, but he had evidently been shooting small spit-wads into my hair for God knows how long. Suddenly, Jasper punched him, hard, on the arm. I actually felt the impact through our desks.

"Stop it, jerk!" he hissed under his breath, not wanting to alert the teacher to the fooling around. I turned to see what was going on, still oblivious that there were about twenty little spit covered balls of paper in my hair.

James looked at Jasper like he had been possessed. Then he smiled like someone had told him a huge secret.

"Aww, she your girlfriend, now?" he asked. "What are you gonna do, Whitlock? She's ugly. These make her more... interesting looking." He laughed, sneering at me as I noticed a few of the white clumps fall around me.

As I shook my hair out, hoping there weren't too many and that I wouldn't be plucking them out all day, the bell rang. James punched Jasper in the chest and ran out the door. He winced, but didn't move or make a sound. I turned away, not caring if anything remained in my hair and began to gather my things.

"I'm sorry," came that breathy voice. I stopped, my hand halfway to the ground for my bag. "I shouldn't have let him do that in the first place. He's an ass, but I guess it was funny the first time."

"I bet," I said, not looking at him. He was standing there, blocking me as I turned to leave the room. We were the only two left. His gray eyes were shining and too wet looking, like that first day, and it made me avert my gaze. His round cheeks might have been tinged with embarrassment, but I couldn't tell. He reached out and pulled another little ball from my hair and threw it to the ground.

His wrist flexed and I inhaled raising my eyes to his. He let out a staggered breath and it washed over me. I couldn't tell you what it reminded me of. The scent seemed too intimate, too familiar, even though I could not place it. It made me think of turquoise and iron. Strange pictures flashed through my head and I felt a surge of some emotion I wasn't used to.

"Um, thanks. I guess." I scurried around him, bolting out the door and not looking back.

If I had any fucking sense, it would have dawned on me then that nothing but doom would find us. His first words to me were an apology and I thanked him for it. We have been some version of that first conversation for the last twelve years. Each apology stung and each thank you was insincere. It needed to be the other way around. I thanked him for the pain and somehow, it never hurt as much as it should have. I couldn't make it hurt enough. Believe me, I tried.

His apologies never meant a thing. He couldn't look me in the eye anymore when he said those words. We were forged and flawed forever that seemingly insignificant moment in that dim, washed-out classroom. His eyes, then, seemed sincere and honestly ashamed that he had let James go on for so long. Now, they were portals of vacancy and pain. Iron corrodes and stone eventually turns to dust. He'd seen too much, felt too much. He was weary and needed rest. He wouldn't seek it and I could do nothing but stand by and watch as he crumbled to pieces all around me. I didn't want him in pieces. I wasn't sure how much longer there would be anything at all left to want.

The bar filled in with needy patrons looking for their own hiding places. An hour passed as I sat at that off-kilter table waiting. Another beer and one more smoke and I was out of there. Instinctively, I knew he wasn't going to show. I almost hadn't, and that was the one glaring difference between us. He ran. I stayed. Always. I'd lost count of all the no-shows and unreturned phone calls. Promises that Jasper made were broken nine times out of ten. This was the third in as many months. It didn't really matter that I kept a tally, that I was the one willing to put myself out there and show up, no matter what. We did nothing but fight and fuck anymore. As guilty as I knew I should feel, it didn't stop the depraved cycle we had started.

It didn't seem possible to stop. I craved him like air and water—suffocating when it ebbed and choking when it flowed. So, I hid, smiled and pretended. Once again, he let me down. Once again, I thought I wouldn't care, but the tears would come, eventually, and there would be no end to us—even if this was it.

* * *

~Jasper~

She was in the bathroom singing. Her voice was off, even as the raging shower drowned most of it out, and I cringed at the sound. Why the fuck was I still here? I couldn't bring myself to leave, yet every second spent here, with her, killed me. Truly, I had no where to go. I'd dug this hole too deep to climb out of and now was buried.

Last week when I met Bella at the bar, we hardly made it through our first round before we were running for the car. I had her naked within seconds of closing the hotel room door and she came twice before I even took my jeans off. Something about tasting her first, before any other sense registered, made being with her something sacred and made for me alone. I hated that spiritual shit, but the fact that nothing else existed except for us when part of me was inside her blew my mind. It was more natural and more foreign than anything I had ever experienced and it terrified me.

Sitting in the dark trying to come up with another excuse to be leaving at 9:30 on a Tuesday night had me shaking. Just thinking about the last time made me unsure that I could go through with it again. Bella seemed so capable, so at ease, when we were together. It was nothing for her to be with me. She gave in and let whatever we were take over.

I couldn't do that. A few times I felt my mind and body really connecting, focusing and becoming one with hers. For a few minutes at a time the room blurred and the world outside lost meaning. I knew though, that the second I lost the focus on myself, on the fucked up shit I was doing to everyone around me, and focused on her I would be lost forever. I would have to break away, just say the words and force the actions. She would come with me and I would make her mine. I would steal her from her family, friends, and _fiancé_ and she would let me. It would be the easiest thing I had ever done. It killed me that in reality it would be so hard for her.

When it was just fucking—tearing clothes and bruising and sucking—I could handle it. When she looked in my eyes as she came and I really saw her, the woman she was, I was in awe and there was nothing in the world more beautiful or powerful. She would crush me every day. She had. She did. I was too in love with her, and then not enough. So many times I had begged her to stay with me. I would hold her panties hostage, hide her keys. I plied her with promises and she saw right through me. This _was _just fucking to her. That was all it had ever been.

Maybe once, a long time ago, it wasn't. Now, it was convenient. We couldn't deny it, so we didn't try. In that hotel room, nothing mattered except her flesh and mine. The words that would come out of her mouth... she shit she would say to me... they simultaneously nourished and destroyed me. She would get so wet, so much more so than any woman I had been with. Everything about her made me crazy, dizzy with want. I would dip my fingers into the well and my whole body would scream out to be covered. The thirst I had for her could not be quelled. I could drown in it and still want more.

I was more sure that I loved Bella than I was about anything else. Impossible as it was when we tried to be together, those were the best thirty days of my life. I woke up next to her, smelled her first and last thing each day. I was never rid of her taste. It covered me like my own, like we were finally merging, but something had changed. When I looked in her eyes, the dead stared back. We would never be what she wanted us to be. I could see that it hurt her, so I slowly faded away. Rather than ruin her, I would kill myself. Each day I counted the number of times I touched her and every day I took one away.

With her panting and gasping, laying underneath me, I could dry all of the wretched tears I wanted to spill. When she looked at me, features that used to be so warm iced over because there was always something I wasn't doing, wasn't saying. She was too proud to ask and too fucking stubborn to confront me and so she whimpered my name, almost like that first time, but never the same way.

I'd mixed my tears with her arousal countless times and as we moved toward our end, it wasn't just her salt we were covered in. I couldn't hold it back and the rain pounded as I pounded and I would think I saw a flicker in her eye, a smile on her lips, but it was just a shadow, always a shadow.

It was near six in the morning and the sun had barely opened its eye when I felt her weight leave the bed. I didn't speak, instead I pretended to still sleep. I shut my eyes tightly and made fists into my hair as I heard the front door click shut. Her bag had been in the living room. I saw it before we went to bed.

When I met with her two days later, I tried to make it her fault. I told her any lie I could. She was wonderful, but not enough. I was in love with someone else. She was a lying whore and was just using me and I would never forgive her for it. I didn't want her anymore.

Her tears never came. Her face barely twitched and for three months that face haunted me, until I couldn't stay away any longer. Of course, she had moved on quickly and I found it difficult to accept that she was happy with another man. So, I kept my distance as best I could, but we quickly fell back into our old pattern.

Her man, Edward, was a decent guy. I couldn't hate him, he'd done nothing to me, but he didn't factor into our equation at all. I had one last chance to convince her to be with me. I'd never put any planning into us before and maybe that was what had been so wrong for so long. I was too much of a pussy to lay it out there for her to take.

Soon, we were meeting weekly and I swallowed down the searing pain that rose inside me every time I was with her. She was no closer to leaving him, no closer to being mine. I could still see the hate in her eyes for what I had done. I would fuck her harder, assaulting her for leaving me first. Every time she came, the ache mixed with the pleasure and her warm face contorted, showing me just how miserable she was. It paled in comparison to my own misery, but I enjoyed seeing it nonetheless. The longer we went on this way, the more violent and intense our trysts would become and I wondered when it would finally morph and turn into the rage we both suppressed. Would we be pushing and pulling into and out of each other one second, desperate to release the hate, and then the next be slapping and punching and crying out our love?

I wanted her to strike me, I wanted some sort of emotion from her other than _these _horrid feelings. Anger was a good one, one she rarely expressed. I couldn't push enough. Even leaving a twenty on the dresser before I took off didn't get me there. I was helping pay for our night in more ways than one and making her feel like a whore was one way she could pay me, as well.

I would do it all again. Every moment, I would live again. I leaned back on the couch and took out my phone. I attempted to text her three times, but words failed, even typed ones. Maggie was out of the shower and still singing. I closed my eyes, already regretting and relieved that I'd stood her up. If I couldn't stop this, it would never end. I needed maybe a month to put something together, but I was certain that soon I would be nothing but a ghost to Bella.

Two hours later standing in my dark bedroom, I looked from my cock, buried in Maggie's inadequate mouth, to my cell phone. I drove to Bella in my mind. She walked out her front door leaving Edward standing there, gaping after her. She ran to my car and hopped in. We took off together and never looked back.


	5. Chapter 4: étrangers

Okay, goodfuckinggod I know how fail I am. Serious. You don't even have to tell me.

So, I posted a teaser over on The Fictionators Monday. If you read it, some things may be different. ;)

* * *

Time line: Both pov June, 2009. Bella's second sighting in two months. Jasper's first since winter.

**June, 2009**

~Jasper~

I waited and watched as the hours went by. Days, months, years flew by and all the while I gradually began to forget. Certain events, memorable moments, were always near the front of my mind: our first kiss, which then led to sex in the limo; when I first laid eyes on her; the first hour of my first day in this awful town.

I knew that my life was forever changed after our drunken first prom; all the drunken days spent skipping school. We went to my apartment, the one I was sharing with Lauren, and she drank Fuzzy Navels until she passed out. That's when I started calling her Peach. Her breath was sweet and sultry and it took everything in my power to not take advantage of her on some other girls couch.

Then there were the few times we were together after I came back from California. I didn't blame her for pushing me away. All it did was make me try harder, though. I needed her to realize that we were supposed to be together, but I wasn't sure I could win her back after what I had done. My list went on and on, yet somehow seemed too short for the twelve years it spanned. I cherished every one, but began to forget what filled in the parts between them. It always felt like I was denying myself, and in reality I was. Denying myself her taste and her touch, I wouldn't let myself have anything that had to do with her. I pushed at the wall around her, but would not dare penetrate it. She was blind to my prodding and I never tried hard enough, never said what she wanted to hear. In the end, I never denied anyone but her. For all that we shared, there were too many secrets. We strained and fought and crumbled under the weight of them.

Unsurprisingly, it became easier to focus, to live, without her ghost. Less and less I found myself visiting those places that I knew she would be. Managing to avoid seeking her out for the last three months, I had nearly convinced myself that it was better that way. I could handle it. I could miss her skin without wanting it and remember her without needing her.

In almost an elegy I sat quietly in the dark and remembered, behavior triggered by my only dream of her since Christmas. It lingered all day, the image of her smothered and smiling, sunk into my pillows and sheets. Her eyes were closed and she was breathing so lightly that I had to bring my face to hers to hear it. I could smell her when I woke—a haunted spice and thickly sweet—my peach, my lover, my friend.

Like an exorcism gone sour, my demon had returned. At work, she startled me with every ring of the bell. I feared crowds of people as I made my way through town, expecting her to step out from behind one like a raging goddess bent upon my destruction and ready to devour me. I scrubbed myself in the shower remembering her bony fingers and wet skin soaping the both of us—sliding together.

One unconscious moment had riddled me barely able to stand. I didn't want this again, but I could do nothing to rid her from my mind.

My phone rang and I distractedly agreed to meet James at the bar to see some show. Rarely did I sit in the dark, letting my monsters and memories attack me. They muddied my eyes and gut and no thought was free to be without her. I was once again her prisoner and part of me welcomed it—welcomed the flushing panic that twirled through me. It was more feeling than I had experienced in months. I realized that I missed that, too.

Agony like a fissure tore through my soul. Pain can be accommodated and even given refuge when it's all you've got left—when it fills the space that she once did. I made my way to town, not remembering a single step I took along the way.

I paid no attention to the bar or the band, leaning against a support beam in the middle of the room. Seeing through everything—every mistake I had made—in aching clarity, I chain smoked and sucked down as much vodka as I could. The only thing I was unable to see was where everything all went wrong. Maybe it was always that way. We were never supposed to be what we turned into. I hated what we used to be because it made us defective. Though I had no real way of knowing, I hoped that my broken madness somehow invaded her and that she was just as wasted as I was.

I took some pleasure in that, maybe, I had ruined her like she had ruined me. Though, I'd give anything to see her again. I'd walk through all the rain, give my soul away, if I could have her one more time. There is nothing beautiful in my decay. I'd become so used to putting my heart on ice and watching her walk away that this thawing, this renewal, was painful.

In the span of five minutes, I relived every wonderful and hideous moment we'd had in the last seventeen years. Her perfume still swirled in my head, tricking me into thinking I could actually smell her. With my eyes closed, I imagined her standing next to me, with me, like we'd never been apart. Through the smoke, the rich honey cut straight to me, alternately making me nauseous and aroused.

I opened my eyes, scanning to my left, to see brunette locks and that angelic silhouette—features that whispered their descent to heavens unknown. Pain, unimaginable pain and shock, finally split my skin apart to reveal to me the truth.

I needed her now, just as much as I ever had. I wanted her more than the safety of my skin, more than shelter. I would eternally sacrifice every known comfort for one more touch—one more minute. Damning my eyelids for not staying closed, I questioned. Why now? Why tonight? I wished to know her again, but wondered if we would have anything worth bringing back to life.

In the distracted solace of my Bella-free world, she was only ever inches away. She flamed so near that the heat was unbearable and now my thin devil, the same one I had lain with in my dreams, was within an arms reach. I inhaled deeply through the smoke, making sure it was her deep secret I was breathing in. I made to take a step toward her, but seemed stopped by an invisible force―stricken and paralyzed. She didn't want this. We didn't want this. What could I possibly say to her? I missed you? I forgive you? I've hated you more than I ever thought possible, come home with me?

She smiled slightly toward the stage and my wall fell away. I propelled myself toward her, not sure if I would forever regret it.

"Bella? Is that you?" I asked, just as the band started. I couldn't stop myself. She was three feet away. What a stupid idea it was to come here. It had been too long and I was bound to see her eventually. It was stupid to raise my voice up. She could have stayed in my peripheral; I should have left her there. It isn't that I didn't need to see her, need to hear her voice. I needed it all. I just couldn't stand wanting it.

The screeching guitar made me cringe. As the blue stage light was panning over the crowd it seemed to stop on her and the memory flashed through my mind before I had time to shut it off. Perfect and sweaty, she was naked and mine under the blue light in my bedroom. I could still smell her, and everyday I was without it haunted me. She was my ghost and she was translucent. I could not touch her, even if I wanted to. I was desperate and ravenous. She turned and ran as soon as her eyes met mine. She was gone again, and I couldn't bring myself to even breathe.

* * *

~Bella~

So what does it really mean to me? What does he mean? Is it really worth running from? Is it worth hating someone I loved so dearly?

Make the coffee, write the checks; everyday—wake up, work, drink, sleep. It's an endless cycle of banalities and all they succeeded in doing was killing me with their staleness. I'd be a fool if I said I should have left this town, dug up my bag of bones and left this circle of hell for one with a better view. Truth is, I never wanted to leave. Maybe once I convinced myself that a fresh start, a dreadfully clean break, was just the answer I was looking for. I realize now that I failed to ask the proper questions.

There was a point when I did not want Jasper. It was the only time he went out of his way to spend time with me. Perhaps he was just making up for leaving me after prom or it was the beginning of our little game. I had let him go and the more time I declined to spend with him only served to make him try harder.

I wasn't sure what he was expecting, or what he was aiming for. After graduation, I moved to Port Angeles. The rentals were cheap and I shared a house with a middle aged woman, her many cats, and my best friend, Rose. Jasper had been gone almost a year. For months after he left, I lived short days and long nights. Mostly, I was on my own and though my small dark room never felt like home, it was mine and mine alone. When Jasper had been my possibility, the colors had never looked brighter. He was who it was supposed to be. I never thought he would leave me. When he did leave, everything I had hoped for came crashing through the ceiling and everything drained into black and white.

He called me, the next day, to say goodbye. Bracing myself against the table as the machine beeped, I regretted my decision to even listen to it. His voice, the last of him that I would have, was clipped but warm.

"Bella, it's Jasper." My name was bold, but his voice quickly shrank. "I, um, wish you were there... Fuck. I wish you were here." Was that desperation? Regret? Each word had a different volume, a different breath. A cough. "Anyway, I guess I'm calling to say goodbye. No. Not goodbye." Confident and wistful, but withering. "It's not going to be forever... That's going to be us." Who was he talking to now? What did that mean? I could hear a hesitation, feel the attention shift in his gravelly declaration. "I'll miss you, Peach. I'll be thinking about you."

My decision was to move far away from everything that reminded me of him, of us. I couldn't drive by those places everyday, the places where we had been. My initial plan, being with Jasper, had fallen out from under me as suddenly as it had appeared and I knew I needed to make changes, but Port Angeles was about as far as I was willing to go.

When I picked up my phone that late November evening, I never expected his dark voice to be beckoning me. _"Bella. It's Jasper."_

The first of the last notes I'd heard of that music—I really think my heart stopped. Sounds were unknown to me as his was the only one echoing through my head. I sat mute, sparking and churning with disgust that the second I'd heard him had been my happiest one in over a year.

I exhaled and sank down on my bed, wedging the phone between my cheek and the pillow. Curling up, staring at the blank wall, I tried to speak but couldn't. My lips were moving and I brought my fingers to them, unsure if they were trembling or trying to confess everything―my anger, my love, my relief.

_"Peach, you there?"_

"Yeah." It was just a whisper. Should I give the air my full voice, it would surely wake me from this dream.

_"I'm outside. In the driveway. I'd like to see you, if you'd like to see me."_

My heartbeats were irregular and I wondered if I could make it down the stairs without passing out.

"Yeah." I flipped the phone shut and tucked it under my pillow. Slow as a zombie, I walked down to him. At the foot of the stairs, I watched his silhouette hover on the porch. Through the old lady lace curtains he was blurry and just an outline, but he was really there.

Taking a deep breath, I turned the knob slowly. So many things were flying through my mind—images, possibilities. I wanted to pull him inside and never let him leave. I also wanted to go back in time, not answer my phone, so that I would not be standing here faced with the decision of inviting him in or saying goodbye for the last time.

Jasper left me in the worst possible way and I wasn't sure I could forgive that. More than anything I wanted to forgive him, but to put my heart through that again would kill me. I opened the door halfway and took my time looking over his shoes, dark jeans, and thick down jacket—his chin, cheeks, lips, smiling eyes, gray and startling—and fell in love again. The realization brought deep, angry tears to my eyes.

"Hi," he said, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Hi." I stepped back and he walked past me, too close and too far away. I shut us inside and tried to avoid looking at him. My Toro frequently changed and I wanted him out of that heavy coat so I could savor his visage in better lighting and witness what a year in California had made him to to himself. I tried not to breathe, afraid to hear the rush of my excitement and uncertainty.

He began to take his jacket off and I turned, leading him away from the door. I sat down on the step behind me, not looking at him. His hands covered my bare knees and he crouched down between them, finally sitting on the floor in front of me.

"Please don't touch me, Jasper." I pushed his hands off of me.

"I'm sorry, Bella."

"I'm sure you are," I whispered. He huffed or coughed or something, but I couldn't see or hear through the stun of having him here, eye level with my naked legs, or through the furious tears that welled in my eyes. When I remembered the last words I'd spoken to him, in that limo, after I'd given him everything I had to offer, I swallowed my thick salt like bile and raised my head to face him.

"Bella―."

"What are you doing here?" I cut through sharply. Tears fell and hit my thighs, but I didn't care anymore. Angry that I used my words as a weapon, I reached out for him, wanting to take them back. I wanted to jump into his strong arms and feel them crushing me. Instead I caught myself and pulled away, staring into his hollow eyes, and wondered if when I blinked again he would be gone.

"Bella, I—California didn't work out so well."

"I'm sorry to hear that," I said softly, not meaning it to sound as pathetic as it did. I shook with the realization that this meeting would end one of two ways: secrets locked in silence or confessions of a dangerous kind.

He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. I always thought that when I saw him again, I would know just what to say, just what to do. I was, once again, overestimating my confidence. Secrets never looked so promising.

"I can't," I whispered to him. He was on me in an instant. His arms wrapping and crushing, just the way I loved, and I died because he smelled the same―felt the same. I tried to keep my hands off of him, will myself to be stronger than this, stronger than him, but I was weak. Tentatively, I pulled him closer to me—a mistake. His body fit perfectly with mine. Startled at the intensity he began grasping at me, wrapping my legs around his hips and burying his face in my neck.

"Peach, I can't do this anymore. I missed you so much," he said, pushing his hands under my thin shirt, and I had missed him, but not enough to forget.

I pushed him away. "You should go, Jasper. I'm not feeling well." He stiffened and let go. I burned where his skin had melted into mine. He stood and stepped away, looking anywhere but at me. As much as I wanted him to stay, he wanted to more. He troubled over his response.

"Okay. It was good to see you."

"You too."

It was the first of many similar occasions. Eventually we fell into an easy friendship, though nowhere near as intense as before. He continued to call on me at all hours, to my increasing acceptance. Lulls came and went. We remained at an arm's length for the better part of two years. Like getting a running start, we were finally at a pace that could not be easily slowed, until it all fell apart again. I caved and when he was in my bed, there were no secrets or lies.

Last month, as I was walking out of the coffee shop, I saw him, and then again tonight. Tonight, I ran, like I knew I would. It was either that or break a chair over his back. I bounced back and forth between the two. I'd never known such panic or excitement. I felt like my dog just died, but also like I'd found a pot of fucking gold. In no condition to accept either, I went home to my cold bed wishing that he were here to warm me up.

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I thank Allygirl for pre-reading and my Rehab girls for putting up with loads of manlove porn so that I could get through this chapter. I don't have this story beta'ed. If you're interested, let me know, but trust, this is so traumatizing/cathartic that it gets written and posted within hours. If you can do that kind of work, then by all means let me know.

I love you all, so much. Thank you for your reviews, rec's, and for reading.


	6. Chapter 5: amoureux

I need to pimp before we begin... ElleCC, this woman rocks my world. She rec'd my other story (A Priori) over on TLYDF and I seriously heart her forever.

miztrezboo, allysue08, everyone at Rehab—revrag and detroitangel for beta'ing.

Reviewers, lovers, haters, I heart you.

_Every one of you _take my breath away.

Now, I love you all, more than words can describe. I think you'll either feel the same or the complete opposite after this chapter. This feels like a bomb inside me, and I'm terrified it will tear us apart.

~/~

"_I don't just want your heart,_

_I want your flesh, your skin and your blood and bones.._

_your voice, your thoughts, your pulse_

…_and most of all_

_your fingerprints everywhere…" anon._

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**June 2009,**

**post-bar, burning in a half cold bed, slow and sinking.**

**She's thinking that maybe she's made some mistakes...**

**12:36 am**

**~/~**

It was funny, you know, the way he looked at me sometimes. I would have sworn that he was thinking up ideas on how to best marinate and roast me for dinner. I would only ever catch it out of the corner of my eye, but I was very familiar with the behavior.

It wasn't like I really minded it. I liked the attention, but when it was served along with a cold shoulder or a tepid gesture of affection, it settled like a rock in the pit of my stomach. Nothing I could do would get rid of the sickness―the picture in my mind of the last time his hands were on my naked skin, the feel of his body inside mine. It was so vivid that I could barely breathe. If I caught his eye as we walked down the street, his gaze seemed to pierce right through me―stop me cold and dead. And then my benediction would stir the embers and reignite the slow and constant burn that ran through my belly. Wanting nothing more than to tear his clothes off―no matter where we were, no matter who was witness―and introduce the fuel that would feed that fire until it consumed us all, I would avert my eyes and try not to cry.

I was always teetering on the edge of that knife. The blade was moist and slippery from my last fall, and though I could see him down on the other end, I always felt alone in my suffering. It seemed that we could only have but a few weeks of bliss and good company before the fever set in and it was all we could do to not tear into each others flesh and consume the muscle and blood we wanted so badly.

Forbidden and ripe, just bursting with color and flavor, we were succulent and pulsing with life and death and rebirth. We were constantly reborn from the ash of our last great journey. It was never an easy ride and it was never really worth it, because when his steely grey eyes flew back to the earth I always knew that he had seen that certain piece of me that made him want to run.

That was not the look he gave me tonight, at the bar. _That _look had been erased from my memory the very night I first saw it. The awareness of it was just too dangerous. Had I known he was back this time... I couldn't say how I would have reacted. Seeing him last month at the coffee shop scared the shit out of me. Thinking I was free of him and then spying him so unexpectedly tore my world apart and obliterated the stability I thought I'd found. I had been so wrong about everything. Nothing was healed—the stitches had been ripped open.

Unable to sleep, I padded to the kitchen to get something to eat, or drink, or smoke. It didn't matter. I felt a need to consume and wondered at all the ways I'd twisted my desire for him into something self-destructive or something completely delusional. I'd been tattooed, turned down marriage proposals, smoked too much marijuana, and treasured toxic memories either enhanced or greatly diminished. These were the things I longed to run from, not him.

But I did run. I ran like he was the boogieman, like he was a vampire interested in only one thing. I _never _wanted to run. Few things would have stopped me from staying on that same path for the rest of my life, should we even have a fraction of that time left. Part of me died when I saw him, and part of me was born again.

My heart danced for him. It sped when he did and it calmed every time we laid together. It stopped when he left.

Black and bruised, in need of life and liberty from the most evil of all of earth's incarnations, it found some relief, some vitality, from an unlikely source. I tapped into it and soon we were fused. I, a parasite leaching from his honest and pure host, was loved by him for all my "flaws". Edward took me as I was and never asked me why my shell was cracked and broken.

Seeming to already know me, he pretended I was okay and therefore I was. I should have known that it was me who taught him that little trick. It must have been the first of many defects I introduced him to. Ignoring the ache in my belly and the hole in my heart I went on from day to day, smiling and laughing, and learned to love another as much as I could. Jasper leaving me that day, so many years ago, might have been the best and worst thing that had ever happened to me.

Edward never quite filled the void that Jasper carved inside me. He never did make the ache truly go away, but what he did manage to do was distract me. I felt a sort of focus again, one that had nothing to do with Jasper.

Of course, Jasper was still around. I wasn't sure why, but I accepted it. After he came home from California, we remained close, but I couldn't bear to let him back in. I decided to move on. Part of me wanted him eternally, forever at my side, but like an impossible feat, I could never complete what we were. I figured he would split, again, the second he knew I was with Edward. But then, I'd never had a boyfriend when he was around, so I didn't know what to expect. He acted as if it didn't matter. We kept a respectable distance, for the most part, and settled for the parts we were allowed.

I never saw much of Jasper's girls. They weren't numerous any longer and I was thankful for that. He spent quite a bit of time with Edward, but I was always around. We got coffees and went to antique stores, watched movies and made dinners. We drank warm vodka with sushi because I didn't like Sake.

I spent a lot of time with him, without Edward; our new "friendship" depended on it. When I hired him at the coffee shop nearly eight years ago, that time tripled. We went from tortured and angry to flirty and almost jovial, until I invited him home one night. I knew Edward was at work. He knew Jasper was coming over. It was a non-issue in our relationship. Edward accepted Jasper as part of me. He just never knew how permanent that part was, neither did he know how intimate. No matter how it's put, omission is not technically a lie.

To say it was a mistake to invite him over that night would be the understatement of my life. Up until that point, his all-seeing eyes had remained, mostly, fixed on the ground. Walls could not contain the force of the explosion and every piece of furniture in my apartment was covered with our DNA that night. There was even a little blood on the carpet.

We drank at work, all shift long and, not wanting to stop the party, I invited him, Rose, and Emmett back to my place. Emmett and Rose declined. I called Edward to check in as we walked to my car and hanging up, I started the engine. The music was fast and fun and he nipped from a bottle of tequila as we drove the half mile to my apartment singing and laughing along with Tom Waits.

"Toro, seriously, I don't know how you can still drink that stuff," I said, wrinkling my nose at him. "I'm gagging at the smell of it. Close that shit until we get to a more ventilated area, please."

"Aw, El. You're still just a lightweight. If you can't handle 'The Bull,' maybe you need to get off the ride." He winked and rolled his window down. "Two pairs of pants and a mohair vest, I'm full of TEQUILA. I can't stand up!" he screamed out into the empty street along with the song, replacing Bourbon with his own poison.

I laughed. "Quiet, you fool! Don't you know this town goes to bed at nine o'clock? You're going to wake the Cleavers. Not to mention tip off the one cop just waiting to pull someone over. Like I need an open intox, and what the fuck do you mean by 'get off the ride'?" I rolled my eyes and pulled into my apartment complex. It was dark save two dim lights high above the parking lot. They were near burnt out and by the look of all the other broken, fizzled out lampposts, would soon be, as well.

"You know what I mean, El." He winked again and smiled, turning his head sideways.

"I'm sure that I don't." I teased. I knew exactly what he meant and the fact that I was now thinking about my previous rides on "El Toro" made me anxious and furious at myself for going through with this. Neither one of us knew what might happen once we were nestled in the confines of my home.

If we were alone together anymore, there certainly wasn't a bed anywhere around. I made damn sure of that. So why had I decided, without really even deciding, that it would be a good idea to have him here tonight?

He swilled from his demon bottle as we walked up the two flights of stairs to my place. Once in, he cranked up some more Tom Waits―it was apparently that kind of night―and kicked his shoes off. I meandered to the kitchen to prepare something a little more user friendly than straight fucking worm death, and picked up Edward's dinner mess. I didn't mind so much the cleaning up after him. He wasn't a slob, but he left a trail behind him everywhere he went. It was like he let his presence in my life known by the little things he left behind. I poked around the kitchen for maybe five minutes and, Jack and Ginger secured with three cherries, I took off my sweatshirt and dropped down next to him on the couch. He nudged my shoulder with his own. "I'll smoke your ass on Bushido Blade," he said, dead seriously.

"You are fucking on, punk."

We played one round. He smoked me, like he said. That had killed all of twenty minutes. I went to make myself another drink and Jasper followed me into the kitchen. I assumed he was going to look for something to eat, but he slowly walked toward me and leaned against the counter. Looking very closely at me, at my cheek, my neck, my shoulder, his eyes rested on my hands as I dug three more cherries out of the bottom of the jar. I dropped them into my drink and brought my fingers to my mouth.

I wasn't sober, by any means, but I knew what I was doing. I wasn't a fucking child. Judging by the way he was standing—half turned toward me, one hand behind him on the edge of the counter, his entire frame rigid and tensed—he was ready to pounce.

My tongue swirled out around my fingertip and nail and I sucked the juice off. I didn't dare look at him. He was breathing heavily and I could see the rise and fall of his chest out of the corner of my eye. I could feel his breath as it fanned over my shoulder and I tilted my head down. Closing my eyes and willing him to disappear, I held my breath so as not to give my position away. _I _wanted to disappear. I wanted the whole fucking world to just go away, so that it could be him and me, and it would finally be okay.

I exhaled, opened my eyes, and he was gone. Instead of watching him slowly walk away, this time my wish had come true. If I peeked out into the living room, would he be there? Would he have resumed his seat and, not drinking, be staring at the blinking screen where we had left the game menu on? When I rounded the corner, my breath hitched at the accuracy of my vision. His hands were folded in his lap, and I watched him for a moment, trying to gauge what had just happened and where we had just gone.

Coming up with nothing brilliant, I accepted that we crossed the line again. We'd been so good at not even testing it lately that it actually came as a shock how little was needed to get us there. It didn't matter that I had Edward and it didn't matter that he had... whoever he had. We weren't with those people and if we really wanted to, then we would have been.

Sometimes, everything seemed to be so simple―just be together, drop everything else, only for you. Somewhere along the way, we had unwittingly surrounded ourselves with quicksand and forgot to build a bridge. We were tied together, but succumbed at the same time.

"Jasper?" I asked, trying to be quiet for some reason as I walked up behind him.

"Peach, don't." His voice was tired, exhausted even, and he bent his head down to his chest. His messy blonde hair parted over the back of his neck. I could tell it was clean, tangle free, and all I wanted to do was run my fingers through it, but at the same time I wanted to yank it out in fistfuls. His dismissal made my blood boil and his 'oh, woe as me' voice garnered him no sympathy or understanding.

"Don't what? Don't talk about it? Don't let it show?" The storm cloud was churning, waiting for that one stroke of lightning to spear it in two. I shook and my mouth watered. I took a large gulp of my cocktail. Setting it down, I took another step toward him. Nothing had ever looked so soft, felt so warm, been so right, and so fucking wrong.

Turning to me, his eyes slowly rose and met mine. He inhaled and lurched off the couch, dashing to me like he was saving both our lives. Backing me against the wall, his body branded where we touched. He pushed my shoulders roughly and it was everything I could do to keep my hands to myself.

"Don't let me know how close you are. I can't see it anymore. Everyday, you kill me and I let you. If you think for even one minute," he paused, his voice hard and fast. It cut me with every syllable he uttered. His hot breath blew into my eyes and I felt it in my mouth, in the back of my throat, but I could not look up at him. It rushed down my neck and fluttered under the collar of my shirt. I watched the heated words tumble from his strong lips and I needed not to hear them. I was wasting. There was not one inch of space between us and all I could think was that he was still not close enough. "If you think that every minute, Bella, isn't worse than the last..." he seemed unable to finish his thoughts. "Every _minute _is you."

"Toro," I said, losing the fight against his fury. It was impossible to keep my eyes open and my wits about me. A picture frame pressed into the skin of my skull, just behind my ear, and I rolled my head away. Chest to chest he kept me standing, his arms now underneath mine against the wall. I opened my eyes, expecting him to be blazing, but was met with a mask I didn't think I'd ever seen before. It had all the points of the devil, with the remorse of a sinner—all the softness of an angel, with the determination of the damned.

My knees were weak and shaking, and as he pressed into me he slid his thigh between mine. No breath was drawn, and there were no utterances of any kind. For what seemed like hours, I simply made myself feel him. I pushed into him and he pushed back. I squeezed my legs together and he invaded them further, forcing himself against me. Bringing my hands up, I grazed his back and arms; he ran his fingers over mine. Up and over his shoulders my fingers trailed and I let myself feel the solid weight of him, the warm glow of his skin as it seeped through his shirt and into the palms of my hands.

I imagined every line and plane of each muscle. My back arched against the wall, I leaned into him, and he bent his head to my neck. He pushed my hair back and quickly grazed his nose in it's place, and when his fingers tickled the skin under my ear my body erupted into a million tiny volcanoes. I could feel him on my thigh—how badly he wanted me—and it made me buzz and falter. Finally I inhaled, and scents I recognized swirled in and out of my head―my heart. His odor, so male, mixed with coffee, smoke, and tequila. Like always, it made me swoon, and sooner or later I would be chloroformed by the lust.

Pressing his cheek to my ear, I listened to him gathering breath—almost saying something, but holding back. Paralyzed, I tried to loosen my fingers from his arms, tried to move my face to his, but my bones were defiant and remained still as stone. With my stomach trembling, I clenched my jaw and tried to slow my racing heart, to no avail. He shifted his head and his lips ghosted over my skin. My breaths were shallow and I envied the deepness with which he now took his own. His hands moved down my sides and circled my waist―fingers digging into my flesh.

Vicious and maddening tears spilled from my lids as his touch sent shock waves through my body. Fear enveloped me and I whimpered when I realized that everything I'd managed to rebuild since he last left was being torn down again and, no matter how badly I wanted those walls to stay put, I ached to demolish everything.

"Tell me to stop, Bella. Tell me you _want _me to stop." The tip of his tongue met my earlobe briefly and I gasped. His voice challenged me and I knew it was his way of letting me know that he wasn't leaving unless I forced him out. It was his way of telling me that he knew my answer before I even did. He was right. I didn't want him to stop. I never wanted him to stop. He could rip my clothes off and bury himself inside me and I would undress him and coax his feral soul into my mouth.

I sobbed. "No."

So quickly it hurt, he grabbed my face between both his hands and, supporting my withering frame, kissed me hard. It was no sweet, romantic kiss. It was loud and rough. His forearms held my shoulders to the wall as he invaded my mouth with his tongue, without any prompting or resistance from me. I felt unhinged. There was no turning back now and even if I wanted to, I doubted that either our bodies would allow it.

My heart jumped into my throat, but then settled back into its proper place between us, warming a spot for him where lately it had been so cold. I pushed at him as he did at me. My breasts smashed flat on the shield of his chest and I threw my arms over his shoulders, grabbing on to him anywhere I could.

In seconds I was flying, no longer of this earth. The ground ceased to anchor me and though I felt him all around me, all I could hear was a whisper of my name. I held on to fabric, flesh—tearing through it to bruise—and found my balance as I wrapped around Jasper. This screaming vortex of unholy and violent love was the one thing I would always come back for. Searing, tender, and wet, his lips covered mine and I tried to fight back. I inflicted, as well, and heard him whimper as I thrust my tongue further into his mouth. Barely breathing, he spun us around and set me on the edge of the piano. I squeezed my legs around him as he tore my shirt off and brought his mouth to my chest.

His hair tickled as he raked his face across my skin and he reached around me to unclasp my bra. Tossing it behind him, he picked me up again and stumbled to the couch. I'd never been so alert, yet so unaware of him. Dreading when we would next break apart, because then I would see just what we were doing, I closed my eyes as he pushed us down onto the cushions. Wasting no time, his mouth and hands were everywhere and I finally plaited my fingers through that hair, pulling him to my breast much too forcefully. He gasped for air and tore my arms away, pinning them over my head. Not thinking, I opened my eyes to find his raging, just inches away.

He was there, more so than he had ever been. I could see into the bottomless pit of his soul and knew that it wanted to devour me. The world was a terrifying place when those pieces of us were in control. No other touch, no other taste, no other flesh would suffice. We'd been there, had that, and we always stumbled back for this. Fear mixed with my hunger for him and for a split second I knew that if one of us could break free, the other would attack and devour, regardless.

It wasn't going to be me. Though he held firm, I arched up into him and sucked that look off of his face. We did _not_ confront it. That was somewhere we didn't want to go. As surely as I knew my own name, I also knew that destruction. Once unlocked, those monsters would take over the world and nothing would be easy ever again. My vanity got off on the conflict and the fucking. It was all novel to me. I had lots of cake, now I wanted to eat it, too.

Our teeth clashed together painfully, marring the flesh in between, until I tasted copper and crimson salt. I didn't know if it was mine or not. Jasper's elbows drove spikes through my arms and I drew as much strength as I could find from behind me and cast him away. His knee hammered into my cunt, pushing the seam of my denims sharply into my soft flesh. I cried out, both in agony and ecstasy, and shoved him again. He fell backward, off the couch, but grabbing onto my hips, managed to pull me down with him.

Half fallen and enraged, I stiffened in his grasp and had to shake my head to focus. He was yanking my jeans off, and then he smiled at me—sick and twisted, but obstinate and resolute. I smiled back. Round about my knees he stopped, wrapping his hands around them and digging his nails in deeply. I spat and cursed. Blood, it was my blood, and it lightly sprinkled my arm, my chest, the carpet. I kicked and writhed to free myself, but he held on tighter. How quickly the tables could turn.

Laying back, I let the pain radiate and dull. My jeans at my ankles, I took advantage of the situation. Palming my breasts, I ground my body into the floor and tried to open my legs. He held firm—for a moment—before I felt him ease up. I cracked my eyelids for a peek at him—I wanted to see him crumble. He was staring at my naked skin and predominantly where my legs were parting. He licked his lips, kneeling before me like a man possessed but denied his salvation. I teased and ran my hand down my torso, but before I could touch myself fully, his hand slammed down on me, denying me access to my own wet skin.

"No, Bella," he growled. "This is mine." The smack... it hurt, but as he kneaded into me with the palm of his hand, slowly and in circles, any sting I felt was reabsorbed and melted into the pulsing heat he was persuading from my body. It opened for him and he played me like a master. Lost, with his fingers inside me, I exploded when his tongue took the stage and nearly pulled his hair out. But I did not scream. I did not make a sound. He pushed harder, pulled faster, added fingers and teeth, yet I would not perform for him. I smiled. Deep, evil laughter erupted from my chest and I pulled away.

That was not the wailing orgasm he thought he was conducting. It was a mockery, an embarrassment. I stood and towered over him, naked to his fully clothed.

"_I_ own this, Jasper," I said. "All you've _ever_ done was toy with it."

"No," he whispered. His head bowed and his body slumped. "I never meant... I never meant to hurt you."

"But you have," I said, reaching for his cheek. He crawled to me and met my hand halfway. "And you never seem sorry for it. You say you are..." His head was shaking back and forth in my hand.

"No," he said again, leaning in to kiss above my navel. "I am sorry. For everything."

"I've heard those words enough for three lifetimes, Toro. I don't ever want to hear them again. I'll never really know, will I? Just how sorry you are."

His arms wrapped around me and I fell to my knees with him. I could feel the apology through his skin, I knew he was sorry, but I was not. I wasn't regretful enough to grant him the forgiveness that was necessary. It would break us apart. We would be left with less than nothing. If we didn't have this, what else was there?

I leaned back and he lay over me. He shed his clothes quickly and held onto me tightly. I sighed and reveled in his strong flesh. It wouldn't do, to stop now. We couldn't walk away from this. It would haunt us until our bones were dust. Slowly, he pushed into me, shuddering with each centimeter we met. Closer and closer he came, tongue and hands fused with skin—his body inside mine wherever he could gain entrance. I wanted more doors, more holes for him to sink into. I would open every one. He pushed, I pushed. Where we joined exploded in a sonic boom. Deeper he forged, until we spasmed―spent and weeping in each others arms.

I didn't dare recollect the sweet fucking nothings Jasper whispered in my ear on the floor of my living room that night. Doing so would only make me want to run back to that bar and wait to see him again. Those beautiful lies appealed to my shallowness and I was easily coerced again, by myself and him, into putting on a happy face. I wasn't that Bella any longer. My skin has bled a thousand times over since then and I tried like hell to believe that not a single time was for him.

Staring at my reflection in the window of my kitchen, I trembled when a few of those lies trickled into my consciousness. "Forever, Bella. We'll figure it out."

We figured nothing. All we did was destroy, and he left me again. I would put oceans between us if I could, but even they weren't permanent enough. I sighed at the black sky, the rain. My hair was still damp from my run home and I gathered it in a knot over my left shoulder. Leaving the kitchen in darkness, I walked slowly through my living room, glad that I had no memory of him here. When I dreamed, I tried to make them, and I knew that some part of me wanted him here. I hoped for no sign of him in my slumber tonight. Just joy and peace, the things my life lacked.

I reached for the lamp next to the couch, to turn it off, and froze. Three raps loudly sliced through the air and my heart stopped. It wouldn't be. It couldn't. Without my permission, my body glided toward the noise as it repeated and before I even touched the knob, I knew. I could smell him through the door. Almost brought to my knees, I took a deep breath and opened it.

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She who forgets, will be destined to remember. Thanks for reading, and thank you, Nothingman.


	7. Chapter 6: amis

**Hello my lovely readers. You may not have been aware, but I was in the hospital for a spell and am also in the process of moving. That being said, this may be the last update for about a month. I am truly sorry about this, though I am surprised I managed this one with all the bullshit that's been going on. Anyway. One, maybe two more chaps and an Epi are all that are left here. But don't cry. It'll all be worth it. :) **

**Thank you to LaViePastiche for beta'ing and detroitangel for her suggestions. Love yous. **

**June 2009**

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**Jpov**

Often, it wasn't about what you did or what a certain night did to you. It rarely mattered then, now, or tomorrow the mistakes I had made. I'd never killed anyone, raped anyone, or taken advantage of someone in any way that they were not asking for, so I couldn't be that horrible a person. I couldn't only blame myself for where I was, just like I couldn't only blame her. I tried to tell myself these things on a daily basis. They never really helped me forgive my actions, or hers, but I pretended that they did.

I was frozen after Bella ran. The shock had taken a few seconds to register, but once it did, I was rooted to that spot on the sooty, grimy carpet in that smoky bar on Washington Street. Wholly unprepared to actually speak with her, I had brazenly and without thinking called out. Her eyes, darker and warmer in the cave-like bar, went wide and flashed with such horror that my breath seized in my chest. It took me almost too long to snap myself back into the moment and realize that everything I had ever wanted, everything I had ever loved or needed, was running out the door—running away from me—and it was all my fault. I threw my drink to the floor behind me and flew toward the exit.

Outside the bar, she was nowhere to be seen. The pavement glistened darkly, soaking wet as more rain pounded down. I walked quickly north, bringing my hood up to cover myself as best I could. It wasn't a cold night and, unfortunately, the medium weight sweatshirt I had decided on wearing was drenched through before I reached the corner. Punching the walk signal for the light to change, I cursed myself for following her, and then cursed myself even harder for ever being in this position to begin with. I was heading to her apartment. Why I knew where she lived was a secret even I had barely learned. Nevertheless, I braced myself and turned face first into the downpour. I picked up my feet, bringing them down hard into puddles and ran as fast as I could along the deserted avenue. I could only assume that she was going home. I realized I had no idea where else she might go, not now. Years ago I could have told you all the dark, desolate places Bella would find to hide. She never called it hiding and I made sure that I never did either.

I recalled many nights, usually not unlike this, when I would make my rounds of those places. One night in particular I was very unsure of where I would find her. She'd barely said "fuck you" all shift long. She called Emmett in to close for her and left on foot. I'd made up my mind that her hiding was done. It was too much, too often. I didn't care what had pissed her off—I was going to fix it.

The first place I went was the park. Forks had a few parks, but only one with a merry-go-round. If Bella was running, hiding from all the responsibility she had to endure from the decisions she—we—had made, she would have come straight here. She would have forced the rusty, squeaking wheel to spin and jumped on, settling herself in the middle. She would either focus on one area, or none at all, letting the disorientation take over. Her eyes fell on single branches illuminated by the moon and reaching out to grab her as she passed them. When the ride would creak to a stop, she would scoot to one side and, with one foot, propel the metal further, keeping the world at bay for a while longer. I wondered if that park was still on the top of her list or if she only ever went to those places because there, she could really be alone.

I would watch her lay back, resting her arm over her stomach, and breathing deeply. The go-round would slow and I would walk toward her, taking the peeling, curved bars in my hands and pushing gently, so that her ride would not be interrupted. She would sigh. For hours sometimes, we would continue just like that—she lying in the middle, and I standing still on the outside, barely keeping the thing moving. Often, she would pull me onto the structure with her and we would lie together silently. Sometimes there was nothing silent about it and we didn't need any gentle pushing to keep the thing moving.

I'd never considered how difficult our current situation must be for her, and I was confused that she would keep it as such. I'd all but given up trying to be what she wanted me to be. That's what she had Edward for. She could mold him and manipulate him into being exactly what she desired. It was never worth it for her to put up with me the way I was. It was easier to take what she wanted and leave. I couldn't argue with that. Once I tried it, I agreed that, as much as I cared about her, it was much less stressful and I somehow felt less guilty when I got what I came for and left. Some days, she meant nothing more to me than the fuck she used me for. But others, she was _that_ girl again—the one I'd loved since I first set eyes on her, since I'd first smelled her hair. The one I'd finally made love to, just not the way I wanted, in a limo on prom night. She was the girl I could still taste when I licked my lips and who—even if she used me until I was dust—I would never let go of.

That was who she was now. As I halved the distance to her apartment, I tried to script what I would say to her. It wasn't about blame and it wasn't about hate. It was about power and passion, jealousy and misery, insecurity and ecstasy, but none would have ever been felt if it hadn't really been about love.

That night I found her in the park, I already knew I was leaving. I wasn't sure how soon it would be. It could be months before I had enough cash to go, but I still knew. And I didn't know what to say or do, once I reached her, to tell her that I wanted her to come with me. Any conclusion made me long for it to truly happen and terrified me that it _actually_ would. There was no definition of what we had turned into, other than soul sucking monsters hell bent on pleasure through destruction. That we killed it and then shocked it back to life again and again was testament enough that we were forever connected. Even death or distance couldn't sever the bloody steel cord that joined us. Reunion only renewed its strength. It would strangle us both, one day, and we gladly sat and waited for it.

She either heard me coming or just knew, because she sat up and scooted to the edge of the merry-go-round. Putting one foot in front of the other, I focused on her eyes glinting like a demon's in the dark. With a neutral face and slumped shoulders she took on the posture of something forgotten, not salvageable. She inhaled and her rag-doll frame straightened. I stopped five feet from her.

"Why do you always follow me?" she asked, exasperation and surrender in her expression. "You could just leave me alone and eventually this would all go away." She was just building up steam. I kept silent, knowing that she was nowhere near finished.

"Eventually, we would forget about all this bullshit." She waved her arms, halfheartedly, in the air.

"Is that what you want, Peach?" I asked. Her words stung. I'd thought them all myself at one time, but to hear them out loud—to hear them from her—was heartbreaking. If that was truly her wish, I would make sure it happened. I shifted my weight, still surprised that Bella couldn't, no matter how close to the surface it was, tell me what she really wanted—unless part of me was inside her.

"Fuck you," she spat. I blinked, but was otherwise indifferent to her venom. A switch flipped inside me. I thought I had come here to fix things, but was only succeeding in making shit worse.

"Look, Bella. I don't know what I did or why you're angry, so you should just fucking tell me so that I can make it better." I tried to hide it, but even I could hear the pleading in my voice. The silent treatment she gave me had always seemed so much more silent—so much more hostile—than any I had received before. Maybe it was because what had always followed it was shouting to rival any deafening roar.

She stood quickly, dusting her ass off and stomping toward me. "Oh, you want to make it _better_, Jasper?" she screamed. "You wanna fix me? Tell me, what_ the fuck_ would you do to make it better, huh? You're just going to run away again. Love 'em and leave 'em, right, Toro? Nothing matters to you. Nothing ever has. You don't care about anyone other than yourself. So tell me, oh selfless one, what are you going to do?" Her sneer was vicious and antagonizing and I knew that if she were a dude, Emmett, my brother, I would have decked her so hard she would be unconscious. But thinking back, I couldn't remember the rage I had felt that night. It was there, as it was evident in every word we spoke, but the words didn't matter. It was only minutes before my hands were on her skin and as she weakly cursed my every touch, her lips invited me back for more.

The clouds opened and we were washed, drinking from the sky and our skin. I remembered how we had clung to each other, the lightning illuminating our bodies as we slipped and stuck together. I lowered her down onto the riveted steel, my sopping shirt the only padding underneath her. In the awkward confines of the metal bars, conveniently curved, she could only open her legs so far, but it was always far enough.

The difference in the water—hot on her belly and cold on my back—sent chills through me. I delighted in the rain that her body made and savored its flavor above all others. She wrapped around me and around the spinning toy, hoisting her upper body, pushing the lower against me. I glided thickly through her deluge until the trees absorbed our cries and we held on to the night in silence.

When we got back to her car and I opted to walk home, I recognized the pain I saw in her face. I knew it very well. I kissed her hard and wrapped myself around her. She held on just as tightly. We swirled and throbbed and couldn't breathe and both of us let go at the same time.

"Pick me up tomorrow?" I asked her, smiling through the misery of leaving her again. She now seemed nonplussed. Her eyes were clear—she resembled nothing like the freshly fucked girl in lust that I usually left—and they belied her trembling hands.

"Yeah, sure," she said. "See ya."

That calm face haunted me. It was the most fake I'd ever seen. All the lies that came out of her mouth, never once had they invaded her eyes. I thought of it, morphed it in my mind, as I rounded the corner to her apartment.

A half block away, the rain finally let up a bit. Still a steady drizzle, I used it as an excuse to slow my sprint into a jog. I looked to the neglected, arched windows, the glass distorted with age or purpose I didn't know. The house sat farther off the road than its neighbors like a Grand Dame of used up Victorian morals—horrors and passions seen more often than its walls could memorize and more places to hide those secrets than anyone would ever know.

Now that I was here with some purpose, I had no idea what to do—no idea how to approach her. Bella and I had become lost somewhere and had forgotten that before everything, in the very beginning, we had been friends. But friends didn't stalk outside apartments at half past midnight in the rain. They didn't get a stomach ache or adrenaline rush when they thought about knocking on the door.

They certainly did not sit quietly on the side porch—out of the rain but not out of the way—with no porch light on. I shook my head. I didn't think that I was her friend anymore. It was apparent that the gray area we both clung to so desperately was no longer an option and I couldn't decide whether to go black or white. White, to me, seemed void and empty and black so thick and warm.

If I knocked on that door—and I knew that I would—I was leaving only one of two ways, as a lover or as a stranger. There was nothing in between anymore. I stood, pushing my hair back out of my eyes, and as my knuckles hovered over the ancient wood, deciding which role I was aiming for. It was the one I had wanted all along.

I knocked three times firmly, my heart beating a wild spasm each time. Though the apartment was dim, I knew she was awake. She wouldn't be able to sleep tonight. _She_ wouldn't, because _I _wouldn't. We'd be kept awake by the ghosts we tried like hell not to want again, but I knew I wanted _her._ The nervousness drained out of me and I knocked again. My heart and hope surged when I saw and heard the knob rattle. I could feel her on the other side. I barely had time to breathe before that dark red door was replaced with her tiny figure, framed by a soft light, and wide, dancing eyes.

Her face remained neutral though her chest rose and fell heavily. Her sleep clothes looked soft and tight in all the right places and she had all this wondrous ink needled into her skin. My eyes roamed, starving, to take all of her in.

"Bella," I said, trying to steady myself. Her blasphemous scent hit me like a tidal wave when she opened the door. I looked down at her bare legs for not two seconds and my whole being was hard for her. The outside of her thighs were covered in strange ocean waters and scroll and Koi—the right more so than the left. Her arms were sown and spread with hundreds of pictures and feelings and lives that I knew would take me weeks to decipher. I hoped I would get that chance. Her long dark hair was off to one side, knotted, tied up and out of the way. Earlier her bangs were puffed out and severely straight across, now they settled unevenly and flat. She was still as magnificently beautiful as she had always been. The ugly parts just didn't register.

Her eyes never left my face. She stood in full view, not hiding behind the door. Maybe she was done hiding. There was no shock on her face, only acceptance and fear. I could have stood there all night and just stared at her. It would have been worth the solitude and torture of the last five years if she would allow me to reach out and feel her skin under mine again.

She had yet to say anything and I was beginning to wonder if I was about to have that door slammed in my face. She took another breath. It staggered and seemed unwilling to enter her body. Her tank top poked out tauntingly as her nipples hardened underneath. Lightning flashed behind me and I saw a tear stream down her cheek.

"Why?" she whispered. Thunder boomed in the distance. I took two steps forward and reached out to her. Everything I thought I had wanted to say just didn't make sense anymore—not when she was close enough to touch. I cupped her elbow in my hand—such soft skin painted with such harsh lines. It should have felt rough, instead it felt like heaven.

I turned my head a fraction, swallowing the lump in my throat. This wasn't a bawl-fest, single tears only. I shut the door behind me. Finally enveloped in her world again, I was aware of how devastated I had been by her absence.

"Because it's time," I said, bringing my watery eyes back to hers. She shrugged out of my caress and turned away.

"No, Jasper," she said. "It's too late."

* * *

**Bpov**

When I pulled out of his grasp, my whole body screamed at me to go back—bring that skin back to ours, let it cover and love us, killing us quietly at the same time.

"No, Jasper," I said, swallowing my tears, steeling myself to not fold. Too often I had lied to keep it light and easy. It took me too long to realize that as deep as he and I were, we would never be anything but leaden. Pretending that the struggle didn't exist only weighed it down more.

"It's too late." Finally, something that felt like the truth. We couldn't erase the decades that destroyed us. There weren't enough apologies left to turn this wrong into a right. It was never meant to be that way. I sighed and tried to walk away but found that I couldn't. I wanted to be near him. I wanted him. It was that simple, and the pain of that knowledge tore through me like a jagged knife.

"No, Bella," he whispered.

I closed my eyes, tilting my head to my chest. The apartment was silent. It prickled with electricity. I held my breath until he spoke again, this time much closer. "It's been too long to be too late."

I sank to the floor with a strangled cry. "Don't, Jasper."

"Stop it, Bella. Stop fighting."

I sobbed into my hands. His words were everything my black heart needed to hear, but such things always evoked my resistance. I had always wanted him to be the one—the one to say it first, the one to fight for it, to never give up—and that was exactly what I was getting now. He was really sitting behind me, on the floor of my living room, at one in the morning, five years later.

I wanted it. I feared it. I didn't deserve it and neither did he.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Toro!" I screamed. Every muscle in my body was flexed. I wrapped my arms around my head and curled up into what hoped was nothing. I wanted to destroy. He had to hurt like I had. I wanted to choke the tears out of him.

There was only one thing he could say, only one thing I wanted to hear. Seventeen years was a long time and I was not willing to go back, to reset the hate machine we had run so well.

"Bella," he barely breathed out. I could feel and hear him sliding closer to me. I closed my eyes, unwilling to see, unwilling to acknowledge him or the tears that fell onto my arms. He was probably only a foot behind me, legs folded, reaching out but afraid of bursting into flames. I swear I could hear his heart beat under mine and it throbbed in my head like an echo of what was once whole and free.

Just hearing my name from his lips sent chills up my spine. "I..." He hesitated.

When I opened the door, I hadn't wanted to look at him—his face. I tried to concentrate on his heavy, strong hands, limply hanging at his sides, and the draw was too strong. He was soaking wet and his steely eyes were barely visible. Before I knew what was happening, the door was shut and he was inside. I felt his damp fingers gently close around my arm.

It didn't matter how many times I'd played this very scenario out in my head, I wasn't prepared. Jasper never felt like a choice, and any decisions seemed already made for me. It explained our current position—in my apartment, sitting so closely—without a will or won't or an argument from me. It _was_ time, but I was terrified. Any outcome meant a complete deviation. I wasn't sure I would survive.

But he found me, knew where I was, and the blanket of his presence behind me was near enough to assuage my fears.

"I know," he began again. "That we've spent the last five years... avoiding this—avoiding us—but I'm done with that." His hands kissed their way up the backs of my arms to my shoulders. I found myself leaning back, leaning into his touch, but he pulled away.

"If I touch you right now, I'll never let go," he whispered. My body shook, trembled on the ground. I wanted to turn around, make him see and hear my words, but I remained still, afraid of what I might witness.

"I don't think you have the balls to hang on," I said through clenched teeth. "You never did before." My heart was pounding into my ribs, trying to escape the terror I was putting it through.

His voice was tight, low, and full of something I was close to calling hate. "You didn't want me to. I tried and tried again, but you _did not want me_. What was I supposed to do?"

"That's bullshit and you know it." I closed my eyes tightly.

"Fuck, Bella. Had you _ever_ bothered to listen, you would have..." He stopped and took a deep breath. "Instead of waiting to hear _exactly_ what you wanted, you would have heard _me_ and how much, in _my words_, I wanted you."

"_You_ only wanted _me_ when it was convenient. I never meant anything to you," I said, wanting to die. I was already curled up. I had only one more step and I would essentially be there.

"You're wrong. So, so wrong," he said.

With my eyes still squeezed shut I shifted away, forward, old habits dying hard.

"You were my world from the moment I laid eyes on you, Peach," he said. "You have been every day since. We fucked up—I fucked up. You mean more to me than anything ever has, and I let it slip away. I know I did and I'm sorry." His voice was loose now, wavering, and I could hear the thickening of tears behind his veil of fortitude. I felt his arm wrap around my waist and pull me backward, onto his lap. I resisted, weakly, pathetically, because I wanted to be close to him more than I wanted to breathe, but admitting it was akin to giving in. He settled me between his legs, pulling me against his chest. His skin was hot against my own and I tucked myself into him as his arms closed around me.

"I want you. I want you back. I want you forever. I want every year we had and every year we missed. I'm not going anywhere this time, and I'm not going to let you run away either."

I sobbed again as he slipped my hair away from my shoulder and placed his lips against my neck. "I'm back for good," he said. "I'm back for you."

* * *

Again, I would like to apologize for the time between updates. Once things settle down, I should be back to every other week. If I neglect to reply to your review, please know that I read them, every one, and cherish them.

I have a few rec's for y'all. **Newspaper Wars** by **Annichka**. A new-ish fic I've recently started to beta. It's amazingly detailed and well written. Fascinating and sexy.

**Expectations and Other Moving Pieces** by **chrometurtle**. The best angst EVAR. No joke, and wonderfully written.

And for something completely different. ROMANCE. Gasp. What's this?? **A World Without Sound** by **The Romanticial Edwardian** is so cheesy sweet romantic gagme** I TOTALLY love it**. It's award winning and pretty much the most amazing thing since orange sherbert. Oh, and COMPLETE. Thank fuck, right?

xoxo


	8. Chapter 7: étrangers

Hey, guys. Sorry for the delays. I've been sick, like, the whole freaking year and had some major surgery about 3 weeks ago. I'm doing well. Thank you all for your well wishes, support, and patience.

And a huge thanks if you're still hanging around here. I love this little peach and intend to wrap things up soon. This is the last chap, then an epi. I hope to bring it to you promptly.

Thank you LaViePastiche and detroitangel for the beta and allysue08 for much, much more than just prereading. All my love, girls.

Thank you everyone who read, reviewed, rec'ed, loved and hated this story. All my love.

* * *

_"You were my world from the moment I laid eyes on you, Peach," he said. "You have been every day since. We fucked up—I fucked up. You mean more to me than anyone ever has, and I let it slip away. I know I did and I'm sorry." His voice was loose now, wavering, and I could hear the thickening of tears behind his veil of fortitude. I felt his arm wrap around my waist and pull me backward, onto his lap. I resisted, weakly, pathetically, because I wanted to be close to him more than I wanted to breathe, but admitting it was akin to giving in. He settled me between his legs, pulling me against his chest. His skin was hot against my own and I tucked myself into him as his arms closed around me._

_"I want you. I want you back. I want you forever. I want every year we had and every year we missed. I'm not going anywhere this time, and I'm not going to let you run away either."_

_I sobbed again as he slipped my hair away from my shoulder and placed his lips against my neck. "I'm back for good," he said. "I'm back for you."_

* * *

**Chapter Seven**

**É****trangers**

"Forgive him his sins and return him." Lazarus-Peggy Sue

.:*~*:.

I sat there in Jasper's soaking wet arms staring at my darkened walls, sickened that even though I had convinced myself I didn't want him I had still looked for him everywhere I'd ever gone. Even today, as I walked down the street and looked in shop windows, I searched. My intention was to daydream, yet I knew I was seeking his blonde waves and reddish stubble, a few black thorns stippled throughout. Those dark spots I could identify with. They were closer, more visible—how I always felt—and I could feel them scratch my shoulder and neck as he disarmingly stole kisses like I'd just seen him yesterday.

I could see that stubble if I just turned my head. The trouble was... The trouble was that if I turned my head I would be nose to nose with him. I would recognize and confirm that his lips were available again and that his skin was touching mine. I could feel his form underneath mine; I could hear the beating of his heart as it raced after my own. I could smell the vodka and cigarettes on his breath as it rolled over the plane of my shoulder and I wanted nothing more than to make it go the fuck away.

I did not want him.

He was all I had ever needed.

My body trembled and melted into a puddle of betrayal as I reveled in the flesh that I had been snared into. I did not want to forgive and forget tonight. I imagined pushing him away and out the door, slamming it in his face and screaming all the "how dare you's" and "too late's" I could manage as I threw shoes or dishes or potted plants at his head. The hate was so close, but love knew the way too, and I could not bring myself to separate from him. His warm body was a pleading invitation to hell from the mouth of an angel and he seeped into me as I shifted to feel him more completely. I focused on the headlights of passing cars as they streamed through my apartment, somehow still denying to myself on some level that he was even here. I counted his breaths and within a dozen was breathing in time with him, our bodies reacting on a molecular level and without conscious thought. I fought it with everything I had left. It wasn't a fair fight.

"What the hell have we done?" he asked. My heart almost stopped. I was scared out of my goddamned mind and every second I sat there I became more certain that I would never make him leave. I wanted him gone. I wanted him to never have existed, but I knew that I would not be here—I would not exist—if it weren't for him. The last five years had been nothing but an empty, dingy illusion and now I knew that I had been waiting for him the whole time. I wanted nothing more than to hear him say that he had, too.

"We've all but killed ourselves," I whispered. His breath hitched and each fraction of each inch that his body shifted under mine speared through me. I wasn't even seeing straight anymore. His arms tightened around me, lightly squeezing out my breath and it felt so good that it hurt. I wanted to cry for his arms, his chest, his lips. I wanted to strike them and I wanted to love them, but most of all I wanted to own them finally and all to myself, but I was too much of a pussy to lay my claim.

Could I turn around and look into his eyes? Could I do it without breaking? What was that feeling bubbling up inside me? It was transforming my anger into something more lascivious and there was nothing I could do to stop the permeating rain from soaking me as well. I shivered. He was so hot underneath me and I was so cold.

"There is nothing left. You shouldn't have come." Lies, all lies. Any one looking in my eyes, watching how I wrung my hands, caressing my dampened and chilled skin could tell you that I really wanted nothing more than for him to stay. Maybe forever. Who knew skin could give such tell.

"Peach..."

Make me cry.

"No." I sobbed.

I brought the heels of my palms up to my eyes and tried to press myself into a wet unconsciousness. It only made me dizzy and in one swift spin he had turned my body around and wrapped it around his own. Feeling like I'd fallen down a deep dark well, I rested against his chest, not quite ready to face the grey of his eyes or the way he saw through the mask I had made for him.

There was only ever the one.

"Bella, baby, look at me." His hands cradled my head. His thumbs stroked over my cheeks and directed my face this way and that, finally pushing my hair out of the way and lifting my chin to meet his. Our noses grazed and I held my breath. As much as I couldn't believe this was happening, I tried even harder to pretend I didn't want it to.

"I have thought about this moment for the last five years..." His eyes were wet, but not with guilty tears or even the stinging tears of regret. They were the tears that I'd refused for the last seventeen years—tears with my name on them.

"Stop. Please, Jasper. Don't. You don't get to do this. You can't just come back here and pretend that the last five years didn't happen. You cannot take back the hell that has been every day since we met, and don't even try to pretend that it wasn't as miserable for you. I know it was. I can see it right now, in your eyes." I held on to his shoulders and hoisted myself up. Standing above him I shook and tried not to collapse as I stepped back. For the life of me I could not take my eyes off him.

He frowned, his eyes closed. I watched him shift and scoot backward. His legs folded together, the lap I had just vacated tightened and he leaned back, resting his head against the wall. His hair fell away from his face and I studied him. He'd gained maybe ten pounds. It didn't take anything away from his rogue but boyish looks. In fact, it heightened them. The harsh angles he'd presented with in high school were softened just enough that it made me want to run my fingers over every one of them and compare them to fading memories.

I could tell he was bulky from muscle as well as a few too many beers and I wanted to grasp the excess in my fists and think of how that piece of flesh felt the first time I sunk my nails into it. His t-shirt, wet and tighter than normal, did little to hide the lines of his body from me. I was impressed that he maintained such a shape at almost thirty, but not surprised that he, like me, had decided to cover his body in ink. Such an inescapable and permanent parallel seemed inevitable. We'd always be the same.

Esthetics aside, every inch that was covered represented one of our many memories—good or bad. Every image was a remembrance and a guarantee that we would never forget the path that led us to this very moment.

I scanned the random pictures, but couldn't make anything out. There was little of his skin left bare and I found myself wondering how much of him was covered and if I would have any time to peruse what he'd accumulated while he was gone.

His arms hung at his sides and I stared with renewed interest as he inhaled deeply and attempted to say something. It died before it even made it to his lips. I had so much in common with those words...

He startled me, jumping up quickly and walking toward me. His eyes were intense and sharp, looking up and down as he closed in. I backed myself against the couch and was trapped.

"Don't," I said, holding up my hands. Physical contact was not a good idea so I tried to convey my wish for him to back the fuck up without it.

"I love you," he said, and he meant it.

My denial spit out a laugh. "Don't," I said.

"I do, Bella. I always have."

I was getting pissed. "Jasper," I warned. "Don't."

I clenched my jaw and my fists, hoping I wouldn't have to break his pretty face.

"Bella, you refuse to hear me. I get it now. You're afraid."

Furious. "Stop it."

"Stop what? You've said it yourself. We hide, we lie, and we don't want to be held accountable." He hadn't backed off even an inch. "You're terrified to know what it's like to have me—truly have me." His voice had lowered with every word he said. "_I'm_ terrified."

"Shut up!"

Everything I had worked to bury, everything I had known and felt and loved and hated the second I laid eyes on him was rushing back—swirling and spinning in my head and heart and I grasped the back of the couch for support. I was still losing the fight.

"Bella. I love you. I've loved you from the very first time I saw you and I hated you for it. I hated that you stole my life from me and wouldn't even acknowledge it. You wouldn't even look at me. I wanted nothing more than to punish you every chance I could get, but every hellish second I was with you was heaven. I've never been happier, or more miserable. I won't lie to you anymore and you can't lie to me."

"Stop!" I pushed him away, finally, angry for making the contact but relieved that there was now some space between us. I could breathe a bit more freely, but I couldn't make my feet or legs move. Running was the only thing I wanted to be doing—running from Jasper and his pretty lies.

"You love me too, Bella. There is no way that you've owned me so completely without it being reciprocal. You've had just as much time as I have to deny it, but you can't can you?" He paused tilting his head to look into my eyes, but I turned away, any way I could. He followed. I pivoted, trying to slide along the back of the couch in escape. His arms hemmed and surrounded me, gripping the piece of furniture tightly but without anger. "You can't lie to yourself. You can try, but you'll always know the truth."

Again, he was too close and too far away. Nothing ever compared to the way Jasper's body fit with mine. Rarely had I ever felt a need to adjust myself. I was content and perfect holding my knee up and out while he lazily slid in and out of me, never quite getting the depth we both needed and never quite caring—until it was time to care. Holding himself up on his arms, his warm, swollen lips would slide over mine, maybe stick as he sucked one in his mouth and let go. Then he'd bend his neck and his tongue would flirt around my nipple before those lips closed around it, pulling lightly with a twirl while he thrust into me.

I felt myself ripple, spiraling open like a morning glory unsure of when it was my time to die. I always worried where the sun was and I was sure that without the promised bud of tomorrow I would wither and dry before the dawn. My fingers dug into the cushion of the couch in unison with the clenching of my jaw and I whimpered, startled by the authenticity of the sound. It recalled other intimate sounds coaxed out of me by his skilled skin.

He'd push me on my side and duck behind, hardly leaving the path of my body, but stealing the fullness and feeling. My hand, wet from some stroke, found his skin before he found it himself and guided it back home—lingering to feel the hard slide as he sunk inside.

Desperate.

Ravenous.

Weak.

Powerless.

Wrapped in my legs he would foretell my end and move no muscle—save one. I spread and effortlessly manipulated myself into a halo of pleasure and high pitched moans. I would slap his ass to let him know I needed it harder, faster.

"Fuck, baby. Come on."

Hearing his breathless, strained voice always seemed to be my tipping point. Maybe it was just because I was hearing _someone, _it didn't necessarily mean anything that it was _him_.

Now I knew that I'd been lying to myself about that for years.

"We're in this coffin together, Peach." He'd invaded—folding himself over me—cutting me off from my own arms, my own breath, with his. "It's time we got used to it."

Shaking, I pushed back against him, subtly able to smell his musk and salt, remembering the scent of my sex as it mixed with his skin, saliva, and my remorse. I wanted to weep for the sharpness of the sea as it churned from me and the sweetness of the awkward cake we'd just tasted.

Death would be peace in the stead of an honest day trapped in this existence with him.

I was fading.

"I am unable to give you what you want." My mouth opened, but the words that came out were not mine. For once in my life I wanted to tell him the truth, but before I even I tried, iron bars and a familiar wall of turquoise stone overgrown with lush green vine crept into my vision and I blinked rapidly, unable to rid it from my sight. I knew this barrier well, first introduced to it the day I met Jasper. It felt like a straightjacket, a muzzle, and I felt like a puppet.

Jasper smiled weakly, quietly sighing. "Bella, there has never been a time that you did not give me everything I could have ever hoped for and absolutely nothing at all."

Trying to clear my head, I nodded up and down, threw it side to side, but the earthly shield was still in place. Behind my eyes I tore at the silky leaves, busting my knuckles on the rusty bars. I could smell the crimson tin of my blood as it mixed with acrid chlorophyll and humid air. Surprisingly, after I'd made contact, the leaves retreated and the relentless gate crumbled and fell away.

I froze, eyeing the wall suspiciously. It seemed to laugh at me as vines grew back and bars rematerialized from dust.

"Jasper." My voice was barely audible. "I'm sorry." The vines halted, curling back into themselves and the bars disappeared again.

"Peach, there is nothing to be sorry for. Just don't make it too late to let me in. We have another chance here."

"I want to."

A deafening crack. Dust rose and shards shot out from the stone. The ground rumbled underneath my feet; a great roar was building as the light crashed down around me, leaving me veiled in an indigo gauze. I could hear the stretching and creaking of thick foliage growing and moving all around.

"I want to let you in, Jasper. You can't imagine..."

"I can."

Loud. Stone splintered and exploded—a sound so thunderous I crouched and opened my eyes.

I was imagining this, wasn't I?

Scared to death that one more boom would surely kill us both, I turned around and draped my arms over Jasper's shoulders. I pressed my body into his and heard the crackle and rip of thicket being cleared. Machetes hissed through the air, and I closed my eyes again, knowing that we were going to die together. Finally.

"Bella." He breathed my name, not as urgently or dramatically as he should have. "God, Bella. I love you. I missed you so fucking much."

Dull, greenish-blue boulders fell and dented the ground all around us. Dark chalky soot hovered and glinted in what light remained; sharp flints of stone grazed just past our skin.

The earth shook but the rock stopped falling. I heard nothing and saw only dark shapes as the dust began to settle and the room came more into focus. Light began to filter in and I squinted at the blinding sparks that reflected off what stood directly in front of me.

I felt like a stranger in a familiar land. Nothing looked as it should, yet nothing was out of place. It was almost as if a cloak was lifted and I was seeing things clearly for the first time in a long time.

The weightless, remaining dust caught the light in a dirty haze and I backed away, my eyes meeting those of another. There was something I remembered about him, but I couldn't recall...

Grey irises burning into me then darting away. Golden hair and drunken smiles. A breath taken of my body, into a stranger's. Warm, rough hands and a feeling that no matter who or what I encountered in this world, I would never share half as much energy with anything else.

A cool breeze swept through and chilled my skin. I shivered. His hands coasted up my arms, further eliciting a spiked reaction. He exhaled just as sharply.

I wanted to take this breathless man into my breast and crush him into dust, but I was torn. As much as I wanted to end him I wanted to carry him, lay him in my ark and sail him to a faraway land. I couldn't believe that I'd fought so hard against him and against myself all for nothing. The easiest thing I had ever done was wrap myself around him. I gripped his neck, burying my fingers in his wavy hair, recognizing Jasper's body and how solidly it stood as he let me paw at him. His warm skin whispered my story back to me and it all came flooding back like a poignant dream.

"I love you, Jasper." He kissed me like he'd invented it: harshly at first, but calmer by the second stroke. He dipped and twirled, pierced and sucked, so softly and with such purpose that I was expertly led and nothing had ever felt so easy and right.

His hands rested on my hips as he pulled away a fraction of an inch, drawing out the kiss until just the very edge of our lips were touching.

Pulling him with me, I turned toward more private quarters. As we walked, another breeze danced around us and I giggled. The dust blew away and two strangers were finally turned into one—into flesh and blood.


	9. Epilogue: déjà dans l'amour

"Just do it, Jasper!" she yelled at me, already quite intoxicated. The futon frame creaked under her childish enthusiasm. I sat on the floor, three shot glasses lined up in front of us on the coffee table. It was barely noon and we were wasted.

"Come on, stud! This was your brilliant idea." She leaned over to snatch the bottle, nearly falling on me in the process. I saved her, of course. I always did, catching her with my face and one backward arm.

"Seriously, promise me that you'll never like, climb anything taller than me?" I asked, throwing her back toward the futon when all I really wanted to do was pull her down on top of me.

Who knew why I remembered little interactions like that from our past, from high school. It was probably some subconscious memory vault with certain Bella induced triggers. Even now I was denying that that could be the case.

For all that we shared, there were too many lies and secrets and we just strained and fought and crumbled under the weight of them, but I always knew that it was her.

Maybe after living through all of that we would be strong enough.

I lied back then, a lot, and ruined the best thing I ever had. I'd almost missed the opportunity entirely.

Maybe after I told her the truth, I could save us both.

"You know," I whispered into her ear. Her hair tangled in my hand and somehow made it's way into my mouth. I sucked it in for a second, dampening it completely and tasting the wax and alcohol that lingered from her gels and sprays. As I swallowed, I let the lock fall from my lips.

She was silent, breathing onto my skin as her teeth closed lightly on my collarbone. We'd yet to remove any clothing below our waists, but I think we were both so worked up, we may not have needed to. I fingered the ribs on her right, just the underside of her breast. She still seemed too skinny, too breakable, but I wasn't complaining. Just the fact that I was here, in this room, in her arms—warm, soft, still sticky—made my head spin.

I went over every inch of her body. Like a blind man memorizing a text I did commit every finding, ensuring that in my haste to have her one more time I would not hurt her ever again.

I had done that too many times.

She hummed a response into my ear as her fingers dragged over my shoulder and weaved through my hair.

Her soft and deceivingly sturdy frame rested limply, half under mine. We stuck together in the wet heat of my dampened skin on her flushed and pulsing torso. Every inch of her felt like the prickle of a plump cactus being lightly rolled over my flesh. She stung and soothed to this very day.

"I think I just realized that I would have waited for you forever."

I was still cryptic and wondered if I would ever be able to verbalize clearly and without ambiguity. I knew though, that even if we had to dig for meaning we would find the truth in it.

She startled me by answering quickly and with more feeling than her shallow breathing led on. "Jasper, those are the words I never thought I'd hear."

I ran my fingers over her smooth, taut stomach.

"I'm sorry it took me so long," I said, playing with her turned out bellybutton. My child moved inside her and I smiled, brushing my lips over her jaw.

She writhed under my fingers and laughed, pinching me. "Stop it, asshole. Don't tickle the mama bear. She's got really sharp teeth."

"I think I'll take my chances."

Inhaling her soothing scent, I kissed and licked my way from her neck to her hips, paying special attention to her protruding belly. I slid her cotton pants off her legs and continued my path downward.

"Jasper," she breathed loudly. Her thin fingers held my face still against her thigh.

I looked up and raised an eyebrow at her. "What is it, Peach?"

"You're forgiven."

* * *

:.*~*.:

Wow. My first completed fic. I feel like a winner, for sure.

So many peeps helped with this. First and foremost my hetero-lifemate, wife if it were legal and our hubs would divorce us and take the kids already, detroitangel. She makes my sun shine and keeps my bread buttered.

Huge hugs and kisses to LaViePastice, ElleCC, Allysue08, frenchbeanz, miztrezboo, and detochkina for such fierce support. I love you girls like no others.

Rehab for being amazing and always there when I need someone. Revrag for occasional beta and HER EXCITEMENT. :) &HEARTSILY

Again, thank you to everyone who read, reviewed, rec'd, loved and hated. I am humbled and happy to have shared this with you.

Love x 1,000,000

mop


	10. Alternate ending: en étrangers

Here is a little surprise for all you wonderful IS fans. :) I don't know if you'll approve of this ending, but I'm not doing this for approval. (lies, all lies)

I've added bits from chapter four in Jasper's pov and chapter three in Bella's pov to let you know where this ending deviates from the story. In 2004, they hadn't seen each other in nearly 4 years.

So... without further ado, the alternate ending.

* * *

_June, 2004_

_"Bella? Is that you?" I asked. I couldn't stop myself. She was three feet away. What a stupid idea it was to come here. It's been too long and it was bound to happen eventually. It was stupid to raise my voice up. She could have stayed in my peripheral; I should have left her there. It isn't that I don't need to see her; need to hear her voice. I need it all. I just can't stand wanting it._

_The screeching guitar made me cringe. The blue stage light was panning over the crowd and it stopped on her. The memory flashed through my mind before I had time to shut it off. Perfect and sweaty; naked and mine under the blue light in my bedroom. I could still smell her and everyday I was without it haunted me. She was my ghost and she was translucent. I could not touch her, even if I wanted to. I was desperate and ravenous. She turned and ran as soon as her eyes met mine. She was gone again and I couldn't bring myself to even breathe._

_

* * *

_

~Jasper~

As many times as I swore I would, I knew that I was too much of a coward to follow her. She forged a path, but I was too weak and scared to take it, too unsure if my own well being to trust her.

It was always my excuse and by doing nothing, I was ruining everything.

And so, that night like many others, I watched her go. Always turning my head and looking to the floor, never admitting to myself that I was doing anything wrong. I wanted to, but it was easy to dismiss the whole situation as a poorly timed tryst that probably never should have happened. Unable to put forth any effort, because I didn't think I was getting any in return, I let her slip through and I just walked away. I didn't know that each time I left her I was making the biggest mistake of my life.

There came a time when I didn't care as much. After years of lonely roaming, moving here and there, I settled back in the same town. I found a girl, had a baby, got married, grew up.

The love I had for Bella never went anywhere, it never grew or lessened, it just remained and I tried to give it out, give it to my wife, my babies, my job, anywhere I could when the image of her would penetrate my thoughts, seeping into my very soul, drawing the misery out slowly like a stubborn poison. I could never fill the hole she made in me.

It was paralyzing. Living in a net of unresolved circumstances, of disappearances in place of goodbyes, made me fear each step I took, afraid it would again look like her path. She was inescapable.

How could we not understand? Couldn't we see how evil it was? How all we did was leech and destroy? We never even attempted to build new relationships, never wanted the happiness that kept trying to taint our misery. How dare it? How dare those around us show us anything other than the passion and contempt we so obviously deserved?

No longer could I go a week without some reminder of that time with her. They nagged and ate and then suddenly she would be gone from my head, only to slowly creep back in again.

I made a lot of mistakes. I was only now realizing just how terrible they were.

Often I thought about contacting her. Nothing I could fathom would make me happier than to see her again, but nothing else scared me more. Imagine my surprise, ten years after running the final time, my telephone rang and all the longing and hope I'd kept hidden, the voice I now only ever heard in my dreams, burst through the line and shattered my lonely world.

* * *

_June, 2004_

_His apologies never meant a thing... Iron corrodes and stone eventually turns to dust. He'd seen too much, felt too much. He was weary and needed rest. He wouldn't seek it and I could do nothing but stand by and watch as he crumbled to pieces all around me. I didn't want him in pieces. I wasn't sure how much longer there would be anything at all left to want._

_An hour passed as I sat at that off-kilter table waiting... Instinctively, I knew he wasn't going to show. I almost hadn't, and that was the one glaring difference between us. He ran. I stayed. Always. I'd lost count of all the no-shows and unreturned phone calls. Promises that Jasper made were broken nine times out of ten... We did nothing but fight and fuck anymore. As guilty as I knew I should feel, it didn't stop the depraved cycle we had started._

_It didn't seem possible to stop. I craved him like air and water—suffocating when it ebbed and choking when it flowed. So, I hid, smiled and pretended. Once again, he let me down. Once again, I thought I wouldn't care, but the tears would come, eventually, and there would be no end to us—even if this was it._

_

* * *

_

~Bella~

Pieces of him followed me everywhere I went. They were nothing I could see or feel. I couldn't hold them, squeeze them, or even reject them. They remained in the air, beautiful and hot, morphing as the years went by into cold monsters fueled by regret.

The further away I was the more distant the memories became, but it didn't stop me from thinking about him when I finally opened my second coffee shop, when I met a wonderful man that I would do anything for and never hurt. Nothing kept me from thinking about him on my wedding day. It was hard to pretend that the gaping hole I felt wasn't one distinctly marked absence.

There were, of course, no more tears, no more longing, but dreams of him still interrupted my nights and as much as I was over him, over it, over nearly twenty years of friendship, I wasn't.

I knew how it should have ended. I needed to know if he knew it, too.

I needed to find him.

Knowing where he worked helped, as did the support of my husband. I wasn't sure I could have done it without him. I'd never told one person the whole Jasper story. I was pretty sure no one would stick around long enough to hear about all the lies, bullshit, and cruelty we unloaded upon each other. Just thinking of it all, chronologically, made me sick to my stomach, but when it was all out in the open, the air rent with the destruction of two people too in love to admit it, I finally felt free of it.

But I felt only marginally less in love with him. The part of me that was still that girl loved him. The rest of me resented him, but that wasn't healthy either. It was harder to pretend, harder to fake, and it was the only thing in my life that was incomplete. It needed to be finished, one way or another. The truth of the situation was that we'd ruined a friendship because of our own stubborn unwillingness to compromise, and I was just as guilty as he was. As much as I wished he was lonely and miserable, regretting letting me go, letting what could have been pass us by, I hoped that he wasn't. The last thing I wanted to face was him wanting me back.

As I waited for him to pick up the phone I compared my life to one in a movie, one who dances between the worlds of the living and the dead, hung up on some unfinished business, unable to move on until it had been laid to rest.

Jasper was that to me; he always would be unless I did something about it.

It was a tense, yet familiar conversation. Pleasantries were exchanged with the pushed casualness of an immense uncertainty. Plans were made to meet for coffee, nothing too formal or too significant, and rather than put it off, we decided on the very next day.

Why delay it any further? Ten years was long enough, it was about time.

I put a few extra minutes into getting ready, but honestly didn't care. I didn't wear anything too tight or too revealing, opting for the put together, devil-may-care that I wore daily. This man had seen me at my best, my worst, and my everything in between. He wasn't dressing up for coffee and I made it a point never to either.

We didn't meet at my shop. It wasn't neutral enough. The first thing I thought when I walked into the strange cafe was that I hoped he wouldn't show up. I was almost relieved to not see him until I felt him walk in behind me.

I knew it was him and nothing about that seemed strange in the least. It was surreal and we may have hugged but I honestly don't think we did. He motioned to a table in the corner and told me he'd get the coffees. I sat silently, my eyes never quite roaming to where he stood. It seemed like a dream to see him when he sat across from me, like I wasn't actually here. Like I was realizing that he had existed all those years not just in my head, but in real life.

Rain tapped on the windows as we recounted the last decade of our lives, most details left out. We sipped and laughed and talked of nothing significant. It was almost like catching up.

And then the cups were empty and neither one of us wanted another coffee. There was nothing left to talk about except us. _We _were not a subject fit to discuss over anything with an alcohol content less than ten percent.

Thankfully the rain let up a bit as we quickly walked four blocks to the nearest brewery. My Converse squeaked on the linoleum floor as Jasper held the door and I walked in. Dark and noisy inside, my brain was already foggy from the situation and now I was nervous about mixing alcohol into it. I naively thought that we would somehow skip over the baser aspects of our relationship and maybe just pick up where ever we could. It seemed plausible until the halfway through the first round.

While not avoiding eye contact, we weren't actively seeking it from each other, so when he put on his vulnerable, scared mask I knew that he finally had something important to say. I wasn't sure I wanted to hear it.

The room swelled and shrank. Every familiar second I'd spent with him flooded my memory and I wasn't sure I could listen.

What—what could he say that I wouldn't want to run from? Why did I constantly allow myself to be so vulnerable?

"I'm sorry," he said. No smile, no sparkle in his eye. Only desperate earnestness and a relief that I hadn't seen coming. "I fucked it all up. There's just, there's no way to explain."

Words formed and died over and over in my throat as he affirmed the horrors we'd bestowed upon each other, made excuses, or reasons, for his behavior, and brought every terrible minute screaming back.

He binged, got high, hid. He wasn't sure that he was where he wanted to be in life. He felt like he was drowning. Somehow I managed to find my voice and interrupt him.

"I hated you. I hated that I loved you and you didn't seem to love me."

He just sat there and looked at me. It felt like we were seconds from charging—two bulls too pissed off to see anything but the red flags being waved in front of them. Even his nostrils flared.

"I know, Peach, I hated you, too, and I always loved you. When I saw you that day. God, I panicked. And I just... I wanted to go to you, but you were the hardest thing. The hardest thing I ever did was leave you."

Those words were the words I knew would break me. They seemed so sure coming from his lips. Had he decided a while ago that though worth it in some ways, I was better left alone? Then he chose to stay away, to move on with his life separate from mine? When had he come to the conclusion that he fucked up?

So many things, so many emotions, pulsed through me that I was just as close to killing him as I was to kissing him. Fury like I never thought I could feel threatened to bring the whole building down.

I closed my eyes.

"How dare you?" I was quiet, but I knew he could hear me even over the din of the bar. "How dare you give me everything just to take it away again? I sometimes wish we'd never met." My eyes opened and met his.

Nothing but fear filled them.

"How could you say that to me?"

I could hardly breathe. He heaved with breaths too big for his tightening chest. I could feel him crackling and I looked up to trap the tears but they escaped.

"Don't you even know what you did to me."

I grabbed my purse and jacket and was out of the booth so fast that Jasper barely had time to stop me.

His voice cracked. "Wait! I just... I have nothing. I hate her, I hate my house, I hate food. I taste nothing and nothing has erased this. I never should have done it."

I turned back to him. Two salty tears fell and then dried.

"I'd hoped we could leave those years where they are," I said.

He looked down, behind me.

"I was afraid."

"I know you were, but I didn't want anybody else."

"I know."

I kept standing, so he did too. We walked silently to my car. He accompanied me at his insistence, though I wasn't parked far away and it wasn't quite 11 pm. He stopped us just outside the fourth floor stairwell. The dim light of the parking structure created a shadowy intimacy perhaps best left to another couple.

He held on to me tighter than he should have.

"I made a mistake," he sobbed, pulling me into a hug. "I made so many mistakes."

I rested my lips and cheek on his neck, breathing him in and opening my mouth to taste his scent on my tongue. Dragging my nose along his jaw, up over his cheek to meet his gaze, I let my upper lip linger on his lower before I stepped out of his embrace.

"We all did, Jasper, but at some point we made our choices."

Alone in this parking garage, with less than a foot between us, there was a magnetism I had not expected to still be there after all these years.

I tried to pull away, but his hands caught my wrists, the tips of his fingers lightly pressing up into the palms of my hands. His eyes begged me. They tore through me and made me feel like I was the only person in the world, his salvation, when that was never the case. It frightened me and turned me on, just like it always had. He trembled, trying to keep himself from making a move he wasn't positive about. That had forever been Jasper's M.O.

He never wanted to make the first move. It was less a competition of wills than it was of courage.

"Bella, please. It should have been us. We can have it..."

I cut him off, breaking out of his grasp, pressing my finger over his lips. "No," I said, holding his face in my hand, pushing my palm against his chin and my fingers against his jaw. His lips opened and he lightly bit the spot between my thumb and first finger. His warm tongue snaked out before I could continue.

"No, we cant have it back, Jasper." My words shook and I breathed in as deeply as I could. Every fiber of my being wanted to be connected to his. Nothing about that had changed. His hands had found my hips and coaxed my body closer. I let him, and reveled in the feel of his body pressed against me for the last time.

"I want to," I said through fear and passion and restraint. He groaned, sucking hard on the fleshy bit of my palm in his mouth.

His eyes were imploring, needy and desperate, and I felt sorry for him. He was still too afraid of what he really wanted. I knew I wanted him, it wasn't like I could hide it, but what I wanted more was back in my apartment, probably snuggling with the dog in my absence.

"But, you still can't make a decision. I've made mine, Jasper." I withdrew my hand, pressing the pad of my thumb lightly to his warm lips. He kissed it quickly before I could stop him.

"I'm leaving her, Peach," he whispered. "I swear. Come with me tonight. We can stay like we used to. No one will find out."

I laughed through my tears. "You know I liked you best when you were lying through your teeth." I smiled. "Goodbye, Jasper."

This time I turned and walked away. I did look back to see him. Curiosity got the better of me and I needed to know what it was like to finally watch him watch me leave. It was satisfying, but only gave me another peek at what Jasper had always kept hidden from me.

Seeing the regret and hurt on his face, I couldn't blame him.

Remembering the night, the last twenty years, fondly, I got into my car and cried, driving home without my ghost.


End file.
